


Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen, Will involve other characters from The Musketeers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-04-16 16:03:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 43,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4631445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For those not familiar with my title it is the 7th of God's Commandments given to Moses and it seemed appropriate for my story.<br/>I have never seen a story done with this relationship in mind. If there has been I've missed it and would like someone to give me the title so I can go read it (grins).<br/>Aside from that I would appreciate feedback to know whether the readers here would like to see this storyline continue as I wasn't too sure if I would or not. I still may even if there isn't much of a response. LOL! This is just something that struck my fancy.<br/>Also see notes at bottom.</p><p>++++</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Palais-Cardinal_

Richelieu stared at the unopened envelope on his desk that had just arrived and placed in his hand. Admitting to himself that he was deathly afraid to view the contents because, even after all these many long years, he recognized the feminine handwriting that graced the outside of it. It belonged to his one time paramour from the days of his former youth.

He could hold off no longer as Richelieu reached out for the letter opener on his desk. With trepidation filling him he broke the seal and with trembling fingers he removed the letter, unfolded it and began to read.

 

_Dear Armand,_

_I hope my letter finds you in good health, though in all honesty I'm not sure what the state of your mind will be in after you've read this._

_First and foremost it is with heartfelt gratitude that I thank you once again for the business you've sent our way to help keep our farm thriving._

_Now this is the part where I do hope you are already sitting down for I greatly fear you may collapse in shock at the news I have to impart._

_My pichon garcon is now eighteen years of age and a young man of strong convictions, much like his pere. With my husband's tutelage, and that of his great friend, together my child is quite the swordsman. His dearest wish was to join His Majesty's regiment of Musketeers._

_I know I should have sent this much earlier but things moved so quickly that there just wasn't enough time. As you read this know that my son is already with Captain Treville and under his protection._

_Oh you won't have to be concerned that anyone will see a resemblance to yourself for when I look at my son it is like gazing into a mirror and seeing my own reflection staring back at me. So he is a handsome lad... not like his pere. I but jest in the hopes that it will put a smile back onto your face because i know this probably irritates you to not only find out he is already at the garrison but earning a commission in the Red Guards never even crossed his mind._

_Though I will dare to tell you that I'm disappointed in some of the things I've heard about yourself, Armand. I expected better of you. Then again what do I know just being a mere woman, eh?_

_If you do not want to further damage your reputation, which appears to be tarnishing everyday, then when the name 'd'Artagnan' is ever mentioned within your hearing or if you perchance to have the pleasure of meeting him your reaction will be that of a complete stranger._

_Also, one last thing, though I had a lapse in judgment where you were concerned, know that I love Alexandre with all my heart. I had a moment of weakness and should have known better, but after we parted there has never been anyone other than my dearest husband._

_Now that I've come to the end, I do pray you have the good sense God gave you to burn this letter at once._

_Yours in faith,_

_Francoise_

 

The letter fell from his limp hand, fluttering to the floor, landing by his feet. Placing his other hand to his forehead, Richelieu rubbed at the ache that began to make itself known. It would seem that his chickens, or in this case _chick_ , had well and truly come home to roost... right here in Paris.

Slumping forward, both elbows on his desk, Richelieu placed his head in his hands thinking back to that early spring day in April. The year was sixteen ten and he was a young man of twenty four years.

The carriage carrying him back to his home in Lucon had broken down after he had successfully concluded some church business in Gascony. Having received a papal dispensation at the age of twenty one years he had been ordained as a priest and then bishop so he could take over the family bishopric. Since Gascony was less than a week's travel from Lucon, Richelieu found himself traveling back to Gascony on many such occasions.

But as it appeared Richelieu wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, one of the coachmen approached him to let him know of a farm up ahead that could perhaps put Richelieu up for a night or two until the carriage could be repaired in town.

Being a realist, Richelieu knew he had no other choice and that's how he came to meet Francoise d'Artagnan. Though a man of the cloth, it hadn't kept him from enjoying the carnal pleasures of the flesh from time to time. Once he gazed upon the beautiful features of this young woman, Richelieu wanted her on the spot.

Only because he was God's servant did Francoise not hesitate to admit him inside her home. For she was truthful with Richelieu in telling him that her husband, Alexandre, was away on business with their fellow neighbors to sell their crops to neighboring communities.

She had been newly married, having only exchanged her wedding vows a year prior at eighteen years of age. Richelieu knew he was taking advantage of her for Francoise had admitted to being lonely as this was the first time since her marriage that Alexandre had been apart from her.

Richelieu being Richelieu, wormed his way into her affections so fast he could tell Francoise didn't know which end was up until he convinced her, most persuasively, and they tumbled into bed together that evening. Even though it was only the one time, he did start to feel some remorse for his actions come the next morning.

Somehow God had given him the strength to resist temptation for the next several days until Richelieu's carriage arrived for him. During this time he couldn't help but notice Francoise was consumed by guilt. So on his last day there Richelieu took her two hands in his own, kissing them tenderly as he gazed into her soft, brown doe eyes. Richelieu told her that if she ever wanted anything of him all Francoise needed was to write to him. Giving her his address in Poitou, he then bade her adieu.

Getting back to his life, it wasn't until mid February of the following year that a letter was delivered to him. Francoise informed him that shortly after their time together she had fallen pregnant, knowing full well that the child she carried under her breast was Richelieu's. Feeling it was only right, Francoise wanted to let him know about their baby. Her own husband was over the moon thinking the boy was of his loins. She wrote that it would be a lie she'd have to live with for the rest of her life and prayed that God in his mercy would not damn her soul for it.

He remembered smiling as Richelieu had read the name of the child the boy had been christened with. _Charles Francois d'Artagnan_. The middle name Francoise had gifted their son with actually belonged to Richelieu's own father. She had written that Alexandre was under the assumption it was the male version of Francoise' name and never questioned it. But only Richelieu and her would know the truth.

In the intervening years, Richelieu had sent business the d'Artagnan's way. Whenever opportunities arose that could help the farmers out, the many contacts Alexandre d'Artagnan had garnered would bring him to Paris where he could sell his crops or the horses that the man bred. This was the only way Richelieu could get Francoise to accept any financial help from him to raise their child. And now that very same child, non not a child but a teenager on the cusp of manhood, had aspirations of becoming a damn Musketeer!

Snapping his head back up so quickly that Richelieu nearly gave himself a case of whiplash, it then occurred to him something Milady had said when explaining to him how his entire plot to frame Athos and bring Treville's cherished regiment down around the captain's feet came to nothing. It was because of the help of a boy. A youngster that had been in the inn Gaudet had robbed in Athos' name, killing one of its patrons.

If Richelieu's memory served him correctly and when did it not? The lad had shot and killed one of Gaudet's men. The young man was on personal business of his own in Paris but once he arrived he had gone straight to Treville's office to inform the captain what had transpired back at the inn. The boy then became directly involved with two of Treville's favored Musketeers in clearing Athos' name.

His mind in a muddle, Richelieu tried to remember if Milady had divulged the boy's name to him. He realized he wasn't thinking clearly, being still stunned by Francoise' announcement. Ordering one of his Red Guards to seek Milady out, Richelieu awaited her presence and hopefully the answer that eluded him.

An hour and a miserable headache later, Richelieu observed Milady sweep into his office. She appeared mildly put out at the inconvenience, if judging by her irritated face was anything to go by.

"Interrupted your pleasure did I?" Richelieu chuckled with a mirth he didn't feel as she pulled a face. Staring back at the letter he retrieved from the floor, he muttered under his breath, "at least I'm not alone in that."

"Your Eminence," Milady inclined her head as she studied him. Richelieu seemed a bit distracted and wondered at the significance of that. "What do you need of me?"

"A single name would suffice," Richelieu looked at her in anticipation. "What was his name? The boy who helped clear Athos of murder."

"I believe he went by the name of _d'Artagnan_." She raised an eyebrow at how stark white the cardinal's face became just then. "Are you ill? Should I send for a physician?"

"Non," he waved his hand at her. "But I soon will be," Richelieu mumbled so low that Milady couldn't possibly catch his words. Snapping his fingers at her in dismissal, Richelieu pointed towards the exit. "That will be all."

Not quite sure what had just happened, Milady threw the cardinal a bewildered look. But since Richelieu appeared to be in one of his more than taxing moods, she didn't want to be on the receiving end of his anger. Knowing there was a story behind his actions, Milady decided it would be one that she would unravel with time and perhaps gain an extra coin or two in the process.

++++

_Notes:_

D'Artagnan's parents are both alive in my story.

The real d'Artagnan was born in 1611 so I wanted to keep his true birth year in this and since in real life Richelieu became a priest/bishop in 1607 when he was 21 years old, I added a few years to that when he met up with Francoise (the real d'Art's maman's name). So in getting together with her in the year 1610, and the time she became pregnant (let's say full term here), it worked out for my timeline that d'Art would be born in the year 1611.

Whew! Took some research on my part on Richelieu to get the timelines straight. I was surprised along the way to find out that he became a priest/bishop at such a young age. From what I read he was also a randy rascal back in the day. Even being treated for Gonorrhea at one point.

Richelieu was indeed from Lucon in Poitou and his father's real name was Francois and so I worked both into my story as well.

When in her letter, Francoise refers to d'Artagnan as _pichon_ , that is the Gascon version of petit.


	2. Chapter 2

_Next day, late morning – Royal Palace, throne room_

“This is sooooo boring,” d’Artagnan mumbled, earning a hard nudge in the side along with a scowl from Athos. “What?” Seeing Athos' lips tighten at his question, d'Artagnan rolled his eyes.

“Think of this as a parade except you’re inside and not out,” Aramis grinned, his eyes dancing at the comical face their newest recruit pulled. He, along with Porthos, thought Athos could have shown a degree more of gratitude toward the lad who helped save his life only a few days ago. After receiving his freedom Athos just grumbled a bit but seemed happy enough to include this youngster into their brotherhood. Aramis just wished Athos would lighten up a little, especially when he could see the start of hero worship in the boy's eyes toward the older man.

“Yeah,” Porthos grunted close to the boy’s side, “cept’ ya don’t have ta worry bout’ the sun beatin’ down on your head makin’ ya feel dizzy enough that ya want ta pass out.”

“Keep telling the lad things like that, Porthos,” Aramis whispered, “and d’Artagnan may change his mind about becoming one of us.”

“Never gonna happen,” d’Artagnan’s wide grin spoke volumes to the three battle hardened soldiers.

“Hush,” Athos scolded all three of them like they were wayward children. And in some ways Porthos and Aramis still were. The boy though remained to be seen. But at least d’Artagnan _did_ have the excuse of youth being on his side. “None of us are supposed to be talking,” he murmured under his breath.

“Ain’t ever stopped us none before,” Porthos’ dark eyes twinkled wickedly as he winked at d’Artagnan.

“Why does _he_ keep staring at me?” d’Artagnan asked of them.

“If by _he_ you mean the _cardinal_ ,” Aramis leaned close to the boy’s ear, “probably because you’ve been talking," he teased lightly.

“You’re speaking as well,” d’Artagnan quickly shot back, “but _he_ isn’t looking your way… just at me.”

“Probably thinks we’re recruiting _enfants_ now,” Athos mumbled in irritation.

“I heard that,” pouting, d’Artagnan glared at the older Musketeer.

++++

“I say, Cardinal,” King Louis frowned, “have you listened to a word I’ve said?” He realized his closest adviser appeared distracted. King Louis also noted the direction of Richelieu’s gaze. Following it he could see his newest recruit standing tall beside his favorite Musketeers. There was nothing to make the young man stand out oddly that would cause the cardinal to stare so at the boy. “Richelieu!... Richelieu!” King Louis huffed as this was the third time he tried to gain the man’s attention. Giving up for the moment, he shared a look with his highly amused captain whose mirth grew all the more when King Louis rolled his eyes.

“Your Eminence,” Treville didn’t even bother hiding his grin while he tried to get Richelieu’s attention back on track.

“Mmmmm,” Richelieu hummed, finally taking his eyes off his son… his _son_ , he mused. What a concept and what a nightmare all rolled into one. If it were ever discovered his reputation would truly be in shreds. Having studied the boy at a distance, he could see what Francoise meant about not having to worry about people remarking upon a resemblance to himself. The lad was the spitting image of her in every respect. Though being a Gascon and of Richelieu’s blood, the young man more than likely was a hotheaded youth. Actually he’d be quite disappointed if d’Artagnan were not.

Finally hearing the king’s grumbling noises as well as Treville's, Richelieu’s face flushed with embarrasment at being caught out as it were. Remiss in not listening to His Majesty’s words, he apologized most humbly. “Forgive me, sire. I have many matters on my mind.” If he were honest with himself there were many times he had tuned the young king out. Especially when King Louis spouted nothing but nonsense.

“As do I,” King Louis snapped in displeasure, a scowl forming on his face. “Perhaps we should talk about these things later, Cardinal,” he drawled, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. He was not pleased in the slightest at Richelieu’s inattentiveness. 

“Oui,” Richelieu agreed. Turning his head to the side he then noticed Treville’s smug face. It just wasn’t his morning it appeared.

Dismissing both his captain and the cardinal, King Louis stomped away with four Red Guards trailing after him. "I could have been out playing a rousing game of croquet instead of waiting for the cardinal to wake up!" he talked out loud to himself, not caring who heard him as the doors slammed shut behind him.

Hanging his head, Richelieu stared at his feet until another pair entered his line of vision. Glancing upward, there stood Captain Treville the bane of his existence. The man didn't even try to hide his amusement, making Richelieu wish a hole would open up in the floor and swallow Treville. At least then one of his main problems would be solved.

“You appear a might off your game this fine morning, Richelieu,” Treville couldn’t help his not so subtle jibe at the man. It wasn’t often he had the opportunity to witness the cardinal off kilter.

“As I told His Majesty I have matters of great import to think upon,” Richelieu responded tightly, hating to have to explain himself to anyone and Treville most of all.

“Apparently the king didn’t factor into that today,” Treville added and turned away to leave. Signaling to the inseparables and d’Artagnan that their stint in the palace was at an end, he watched his men break formation. As his Musketeers waited for him to depart first, the rest trailed behind him with d’Artagnan bringing up the rear. It was then he heard the cardinal calling out the boy’s name making Treville stop in his tracks as did Athos.

“D’Artagnan!” Richelieu walked quickly over before the youngster left with the others. “I’d like to speak with you for a moment.”

“Mon dieu!” d’Artagnan muttered and threw a desperate look at Athos who appeared just as surprised as he at d'Artagnan being singled out. “Told you _he_ was watching me,” d’Artagnan hissed.

“Aside from talking when you should not,” Athos raised one eyebrow, “you did nothing wrong.” He patted d'Artagnan sympathetically on the lad’s shoulder. “Do not worry so,” he jerked his head toward the cardinal who was closing the distance between them rapidly. “You are a fresh face and it hasn’t escaped His Eminence’s notice that is all."

“That makes me feel oh so much better,” d’Artagnan’s sarcastic tone wasn’t lost on Athos if the older man’s snuff of laughter was anything to go by. Seeing Athos then continue on his way, d’Artagnan suddenly felt adrift without an anchor. When he saw Captain Treville hovering in the background, d’Artagnan felt slightly better but not by much. Stiffening his shoulders, he waited to face Cardinal Richelieu.

Standing in front of his son, and Richelieu knew it would be a long time until he felt comfortable with himself over that fact, his gaze roamed over the boy’s olive skin tone so much like Francoise’. “I hear you hail from Lupiac.”

“Oui, Your Eminence.” Not knowing what to do with his hands, especially now that d’Artagnan’s palms were covered in sweat from a bad case of nerves, he tucked them underneath his armpits.

Richelieu realized how unsettled the boy had suddenly become in his presence and so proceeded carefully. “How does Paris compare to back home?”

“Ummmm,” d’Artagnan licked his lips. He couldn’t believe he was having such a casual conversation with the first minister of France. “I've had very little time yet to see much of the city, Your Eminence.”

"Well I hope you make time, young man," Richelieu commented and was going to let it go at that. But he just had to settle his mind on another matter. "It is my understanding that you wish to become a Musketeer."

"With all my heart," d'Artagnan responded fervently as his glance slid toward the captain who stood directly behind the cardinal.

Following the boy's gaze, Richelieu looked behind him only to encounter Treville's smug face once more. Sighing dramatically, shaking his head, he turned away. "If you ever think to change your mind," Richelieu stared directly into the boy's curious eyes, "consider joining my Red Guards." He couldn't help but see the astonishment that crossed the lad's face. "A young man of talent and ingenuity could rise quickly in my service." Smiling slightly, Richelieu added, "Word does get to me every now and then. Your help in proving the Musketeer Athos' innocence did not go unnoticed by myself."

Not wanting to upset Cardinal Richelieu, d'Artagnan said the first thing that immediately came to mind. "I thank Your Eminence for thinking myself worthy enough to join your loyal guards."

"But you'd rather become a Musketeer," Richelieu finished wryly, not really surprised at d'Artagnan's answer. Still, he had to try.

Ducking his head, d'Artagnan couldn't look the cardinal in the eye any longer. So he was amazed to feel a hand grasping his arm gently as d'Artagnan lifted his head back up just in time to catch a strange expression crossing the cardinal's face so quickly d'Artagnan thought he had imagined it. He couldn't figure out what it was about himself that made His Eminence single him out.

"Just make King Louis proud and perhaps soon you'll find yourself wearing a pauldron yourself, d'Artagnan." Without further ado, Richelieu swept out of the throne room leaving an extremely bewildered young man in his wake.

Dazed from the unexpected encounter, d'Artagnan's eyes followed the cardinal's until the doors closed behind Richelieu. Remembering the captain standing silently beside him, d'Artagnan turned bemused eyes his way. "I'm not quite sure what happened just now."

"Nor am I," Treville remarked dryly. "If the cardinal's decided to take an interest in you, d'Artagnan, I'd advise you to be extra careful."

"Of what?"

How to say this without shocking the lad, Treville thought for inspiration and felt that only the truth would suffice. "Richelieu loves France that much is true. But it's the way he goes about his business where the problem lies." Walking towards the exit, Treville waited for the boy to follow. "Not everything the cardinal does is above board, d'Artagnan. And people who cross him have a nasty habit of disappearing or worse... turning up dead."

Listening to this, d'Artagnan remembered his papa's words to him before he left home on his journey to Paris. "Papa said I was to always honor the king and the cardinal in all ways," he bit his lip thinking upon his papa's wise counsel at the time. "Now if I understand you correctly, Cardinal Richelieu is not a man to be trusted."

Treville placed his arm across the boy's shoulders. He had known this youngster since d'Artagnan barely reached Treville's knees. "Richelieu's greed knows no bounds," his lips twisted slightly, "he's for himself, always has been and always will be."

"I do not know what to think anymore."

"Then don't even try," Treville smirked, "for now that is. Take each day as it comes. It won't be long until the cardinal's true colors will make themselves known to you," he rubbed at his chin. "I just wonder if helping us clear Athos' good name has made you now the focus of Richelieu's attentions."

"Whatever the reasons, I can handle it," d'Artagnan boasted with all the confidence of youth and being born a Gascon.

Laughing, Treville's blue eyes shone brightly. "I'm sure you can, son."

++++

_Garrison courtyard_

"Where ya been?" Porthos sat alone at a table that had been prepared for the Musketeer's lunch.

"The cardinal wished to speak with me," d'Artagnan felt suddenly overcome by shyness as he admitted this to the large Musketeer.

Materializing silently by d'Artagan's side, Athos' brows drew together upon hearing this news. "May I ask what he wanted of you?"

Quickly d'Artagnan filled both men in on what transpired back in the king's throne room.

"I'll be damned!" Porthos chortled and raised his wine glass high. "Ya gonna become right popular around here, pup."

"Having Richelieu's attention upon one is not something to make light of, Porthos," Athos chided his brother.

" _Attention_?" Aramis asked as he joined them. "Who has it and why?" He wondered what he had said that was so amusing as Porthos' bark of laughter lifted into the air. Seeing Athos frowning in disapproval now, Aramis knew his taciturn brother never needed a reason to be surly but he wondered what brought it about this time.

"I do," d'Artagnan piped up. "It would appear that Cardinal Richelieu has taken an interest in me." Seeing the stunned look the charismatic sharpshooter now bore made d'Artagnan feel uncomfortable again.

"Should we begin to worry upon this now or later?" Aramis started to slice a hunk of cheese to place on his plate, humming softly to himself.

"Later," Athos sat down beside Porthos. "For now I'm hungry and I cannot worry on an empty stomach."

All the men shared in brotherly laughter at Athos' dry wit and did indeed push aside their concern as they enjoyed just being together.


	3. Chapter 3

_Same Day – Garrison Courtyard, after lunch_

Putting his napkin down after finishing his meal, Athos pushed his plate aside. Folding his hands in front of him, he appeared to be thinking hard about something. Then with a glance at d’Artagnan, who was eating an apple, he held out his hand. “Now I can begin to _worry_.”

Pausing in mid bite, d’Artagnan’s mouth hung open for a moment and then it turned into a grin when he realized what his mentor meant. He had completely forgotten Athos earlier comment before lunch.

“I am sorry that in helping Aramis and Porthos prove my innocence it has brought about the cardinal’s interest in you, d’Artagnan,” Athos reached for his cup. Taking a sip he grimaced in distaste. Turning to glare at Porthos he pushed it toward the other man. “Where is my wine?”

“Mis and I thought you’d rather enjoy a hot cup of coffee instead,” Porthos’ black eyes danced back and forth between the outraged face of Athos and the amused ones of Aramis and d’Artagnan.

“When I want coffee,” Athos snapped, “I will order it myself!” Raising his hand in the air Athos caught the attention of one of Serge’s kitchen boys. When the young lad approached, Athos told him he would like some wine. As the boy left, Athos resumed speaking to d’Artagnan. “I do not know why Richelieu made that offer to you about joining his Red Guards,” he pointed a wagging finger at the youngster. "We all know you are in training to be one of us,” he slowly smiled. “Besides everyone knows the Musketeers can beat the tar out of the Red Guards any damn day of the week!”

“Damn straight!” Porthos’ hearty laughter was infectious as all the men joined in.

“I’m just as amazed as anyone else that Cardinal Richelieu deigned to talk with me let alone offer me that position,” d’Artagnan looked at the men and scrunched up his face in concentration as he thought more on it. “He seemed resigned to the fact that I was determined to become a Musketeer though.” Feeling Aramis’ hand at the nape of his neck, d’Artagnan felt the man’s breath ghost across his skin as he whispered in his ear.

“We will help keep an eye on Richelieu whenever he is within your vicinity, d’Artagnan,” Aramis squeezed the lad’s neck gently before releasing him.

“Yeah, we got your back, d’Artagnan,” Porthos nodded at the boy. He was about to ask the whelp if he wanted to practice hand-to-hand with him when a booming voice rang out from above them. Staring up at the balcony Porthos saw their captain looking down at them.

“Gents… my office… now!” Treville ordered, thinking it was about time to send them out on a mission together to show d’Artagnan the ropes in delivering a package properly from points A to B. Then again, perhaps it would be better to pair off the youngster with Duval, Simon & Thomas. After what happened on the inseparable's last mission they might not be the greatest examples for the lad to emulate. He realized he was being to hard on them when he started thinking like that. They may botch up a job every now and then but their record for saving the day more than made up for the occasional slip up. Still, remembering the last time these men were supposed to deliver a parcel for Treville, he winced with a pain that was almost real. It had ended up totally destroyed but how it got that way was what made Treville have second thoughts of sending d’Artagnan out with them.

Lucky for Treville, and the king, that package was only a decoy. Even at times when he had his doubts, there still weren’t any better men than Athos, Porthos and Aramis to teach young d’Artagnan. The astounding fact was that the boy appeared to fit in well with the trio despite the varying age differences between them.

He still worried about the uncommon attention given the boy by Richelieu. There was something going on there, something he couldn't put his finger quite on yet but he would given time. When the men finally entered his office, Treville carefully handed over several wrapped parcels to Athos.

Looking down at the packages Treville just gave him, Athos' dour expression didn't change as he glanced at his brothers. "We are to deliver these I suppose?"

"Make sure _these_ ones get there in one piece this time, Athos," Treville's dry tone wasn't missed by any of the inseparables. His gaze slid past Athos' wry look, then settled on Porthos' wounded expression and eventually onto Aramis' innocent one.

"It wasn't our fault, Captain," Aramis whined in their defence.

"Aramis is right, Captain," Porthos agreed. "Those malandrins came out of nowhere and outnumbered us ta boot."

"That those packages were damaged in the process was something beyond our control," Athos added as a last attempt to plead their case.

D'Artagnan, for his part, became highly amused as he listened to the excuses the men came up with. Noticing the captain's bored face meant that Treville had heard this all before.

Holding up his hand so his men would cease talking, Treville glanced at d'Artagnan. "I'm going to include you in this assignment. It will be a good exercise for you and give you much needed experience in these matters," he paused to stab his three _headaches_ with a baleful eye, "providing nothing unfortunate happens to these parcels this time around." Satisfied he had gotten his point across, Treville grinned. "Keep them safe and d'Artagnan too."

A chorus of _yes sirs_ echoed in the office.

"Where are we to deliver these?" Athos asked as he handed a package each over to Porthos and Aramis.

"To Monsieur Jean-Paul Tremblay at his Chateau in Rouen. He'll be expecting them." Out of the corner of his eye Treville noted a strange look pass over Porthos' face. "Something you care to add, Porthos?"

Surprised at being caught out, Porthos felt his face flush. "Uh, I was sorta hopin' for a longer mission that's all, sir."

"In deference to d'Artagnan I thought to make it a short journey. Three days back and forth sounded like a reasonable amount of time to me." Treville was curious as to why Porthos wanted a longer assignment. Watching Aramis' reaction, Treville figured the answer was shortly to follow.

Hiding his smile behind his hand and not very well at that, Aramis couldn't disguise the amusement that shone out of his brown eyes.

"Ain't funny, Mis," Porthos threw Aramis a look that would have made other men run to the nearest tavern to hide in one of their wine barrels.

"Let's face it," Aramis smiled at his larger than life friend, "you just want to get out of training that new batch of recruits."

"Fine lot they are," Porthos snorted. "Trippin' over their own feet. Don't know how to handle a rapier properly and nearly stabbed themselves with their main gauches." As quiet chuckling reached his ears, Porthos leaned forward slightly to see past Aramis. His dark eyes landed on the amused face of d'Artagnan. "Ya ain't been here that long, whelp," his eyes narrowed, "ta laugh at what those idiots need ta be taught."

"No offence, Porthos," d'Artagnan turned serious eyes on his friend, "but I don't believe those men could be that awful. I mean otherwise why in God's name would they even be here?"

This time it was Porthos turn to laugh. "When we get back you'll get ta watch them in action firsthand and then ya tell me what ya think."

"D'Artagnan," Treville waved the young man to his side, "as you know these men are my best soldiers in the entire regiment," he briefly looked up in the air, "God help me!" His remark earned a low snicker from the boy. "But they also give me ulcers on an hourly basis," Treville placed a friendly arm across d'Artagnan's shoulders. "I've known you since you were a pup. Your Gascon temper matches my own and you can be damned stubborn mule at times," he smiled fondly at the lad, "the same as I." Turning d'Artagnan around to face the trio of Musketeers, Treville pointed to them. "Learn from them but by God not their bad habits," he glared at the inseparables, "of which there are many!"

Bobbing his head up and down, d'Artagnan listened closely to the captain's words all the while watching the irritated faces of his friends. He promised himself he'd refrain from teasing them later on what Treville had just revealed. "I'll do my best, sir."

"See that you do, son." It was at times like this when Treville pondered on how the boy could look so much like Francoise and nothing like Alexandre. Granted the lad seemed to possess his best friend's spirit but apparently none of the man's features. There was something that struck him the other day when d'Artagnan was speaking with Richelieu and they were standing close to one another. Something to do with their mannerisms. It bothered him at the time but Treville quickly forgot it once they left the palace. "I'm positive you'll do Alexandre and myself proud in time."

Blushing from the praise, d'Artagnan ducked his head shyly. Then feeling a gentle push on his back from the captain, he went to stand back beside Athos.

"You'll set out at first light," Treville waited to hear the groans he knew usually accompanied that announcement. Getting up early in the morn was nothing new for his men but it was usually an unwelcome one. When there were no protests forthcoming, Treville was pleasantly surprised. "See to it that you have a trouble free journey for once."

"It is not like we go looking for it, sir," Athos pointed out, a frown marring his aristocratic features.

Treville snorted at that comment and didn't bother to respond.

"If you feel that strongly about this mission perhaps we should leave d'Artagnan behind," Athos suggested, wincing as he heard the boy's loud protests in his ear.

"Tit for tat, eh?" Treville chuckled, folding his arms as he studied the foursome. "Go on, get out of here the lot of you and safe travels." Listening to the three older men grumble as they filed out, he chuckled as d'Artagnan turned his head back to wink at him.

++++

_Palais-Cardinal_

"You are quite sure your information is correct?"

"Oui, Your Eminence," Captain d'Estaing replied. "I verified it myself."

"Good," Richelieu grinned, knowing there were many avenues open to his own men to lay a trap for the inseparables on their way to Rouen. "I want a company of eight men handpicked by you, Captain," he sat back in his chair, a satisfied smirk on his face. "See to it that Athos, Aramis and Porthos do not make it back to Paris alive."

"It will be as you ask, Your Eminence," Captain d'Estaing bowed, pivoted on his heels and swiftly left the cardinal's office.

"My last attempt fell considerably short of what I required," Richelieu mused out loud. "This opportunity will not. I may yet bring Treville to his knees, weeping at the loss of his precious trio."

Little did Richelieu know that his own son would be traveling with the inseparables. For if he did, the cardinal would be singing a completely different tune.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at end
> 
> ++++

_Next morning, en route to Rouen_

Basking in the warmth of the day d’Artagnan closed his eyes and lifted his head, enjoying the sun shining down upon his face with Zad moving along at a leisurely pace.

Porthos glanced at Aramis and jerked his head in the whelp's direction. “Ya can tell he’s a farm boy all right,” he chuckled, “just by the way he’s worshipin’ the sun.”

Grinning, Aramis pushed his hat back and swiped at the sweat trickling down his face. “Don’t know how d’Artagnan does it. It’s not even past nine in the morn and the heat is becoming unbearable.”

“The town of Oissel is not even a day’s ride from Rouen,” Athos pointed out, hearing the conversation between his brothers, “and we will be riding through it.”

“Ya mean we can stop and wet our whistles,” Porthos smiled. Seeing Athos nod in return, he looked Aramis' way again. “That’s why the captin’ made _him_ a lieutenant,” Porthos pointed to his own head. “Athos uses his smarts.”

"At least it will be something to look forward too," Aramis never complained as much as Porthos did but he too would look forward to the stop in Oissel.

“I hear Rouen has an interesting history,” d’Artagnan commented, hoping that when they were done with this mission he would perhaps have a bit of time to look around before they headed back to the garrison.

“Oui,” Aramis agreed. “Rouen's located along the River Seine. It has the unpleasant association of being the location where Joan of Arc was executed,” he said sadly while crossing himself. Catching the boy’s curious expression Aramis was going to say more but Athos beat him to it.

“Last time I was there,” Athos put in, “I had several Rouennais give me a detailed history lesson of the area,” he frowned, “more information than I could digest at the time.”

“Remind me before we leave there, d’Artagnan, to take you to the site of Joan of Arc’s pyre at the Place du Vieux Marche,” Aramis added.

“I would like that very much,” d’Artagnan was pleased to be included, feeling more at ease with these men by the moment. If he were ever to become their fourth member, d'Artagnan wanted to prove to them that he would be a good fit for their tight-knit group.

“Well if we’re going to mount a tour for the boy,” Athos remarked dryly, “might as well include Rouen Castle too.”

“Ah, oui,” Aramis nodded, noting d’Artagnan’s quirked brow he filled in the blanks. “Its keep is known as the Tour Jeanne d’Arc. It is where Joan of Arc was brought in 1431 to be threatened with torture.”

“Ya know,” Porthos broke in, “all this talk of _torture_ and _execution_ is makin’ me a might uncomfortable.”

“Apologies, Porthos,” Aramis didn’t think speaking on this would have bothered the man. But one never knew where Porthos' mind went too at times.

“I have a question which has nothing to do with what we were talking about,” d’Artagnan glanced at Athos who rode abreast of him. Seeing the older man raising his brow d’Artagnan asked, “Is it normal to not know what is inside your deliveries? I mean, you’re risking life and limb,” he tilted his head to the side, “shouldn’t you at least know what for?”

All three Musketeers just stared dumbfounded at the lad and then looked back at each other. Then staring back at the boy again they casually shrugged their shoulders in unison.

“And that’s another thing,” d’Artagnan huffed, waving his hand at them in amazement, “how do you do things like that in sync?”

“As for _that_ ,” Aramis chuckled, “comes from years of our brotherly bond.”

"Timing is everythin', d'Artagnan," Porthos winked at the whelp.

“And as for your first question,” Athos paused as he looked directly into the pup’s expressive face, “we have never questioned what we're given. Sometimes in certain situations, Treville will inform me of what we are to deliver, but for the most part we just do our duty to the best of our ability no matter what.”

He thought he understood and asked no further questions on the matter, putting it to the back of his mind to think upon later. So for nearly the remainder of the morning d'Artagnan ended up listening to the easy banter between Aramis and Porthos. As for Athos, he tended to remain silent unless spoken too as if heavy thoughts weighed him down.

++++

_Much later in the day_

“Ya reckon we’re close ta takin’ a break?” Porthos whispered to Aramis, not wanting Athos to hear him complaining.

Leaning back in his saddle, Aramis took a chance to look over at Athos who was quietly talking to d'Artagnan again. Sending Porthos a strained smile, he shook his head. “Guess not.”

“Hmmpf!” Porthos grunted. “My butt’s gettin’ right sore and its been awhile since our last stop.” Hearing Aramis snicker softly, Porthos shot him a filthy look. “Like you never had _that_ problem before.”

Covering his mouth with a hand, Aramis tried to disguise his amusement, but failed miserably.

“Aramis,” d’Artagnan waved to get his attention, “share the joke would you?”

“Now ya gone and done it,” Porthos growled low in his throat, silently damning Aramis.

“Ummmm,” Aramis peeked over at his large friend and then back again at the lad, “Porthos here needs a bit of a break.” He stifled his remaining chuckles since Porthos gave the impression that he'd like to pummel Aramis into the ground.

Sighing, Athos surveyed the area. “That spot over there should serve our needs nicely,” his lips began to twitch. “I should have realized I needed to call a halt about a mile back.”

“We could have continued on a little longer while there's still daylight left,” d’Aragnan offered, but then hearing Porthos' emit a piteous moan made him quickly change his mind.

“It is because of _that_ ," Athos pointed at Porthos' back as the larger man was riding up ahead of them." Noting the lad's puzzled expression Athos refrained from his usual sarcasm. "See, the way Porthos is fidgiting on his saddle is a dead giveaway to me," he explained deadpanned, earning a huge grin from d'Artagnan.

"You're right. Tis best we stop," d'Artagnan glanced over at Porthos rubbing his lower back, "or we may never get poor Porthos down from Roulette." He shared an amused look with Athos as he slowed down Zad. "There's plenty of shade at least."

Scanning the area with sharp eyes, he saw nothing untoward as Athos nodded in agreement. "Porthos you'll be delighted to know we'll be making camp right here."

"My aching rear says Merci," Porthos grinned. "Sides the pup here probably would enjoy a breather too."

Huffing, d'Artagnan rolled his eyes. "I am not a petite _chiot_ ," he snorted indignantly. At eighteen years of age d'Artagnan felt himself a man already, if not perhaps in the eyes of these seasoned soldiers.

"Ya are ifin' I say ya are," Porthos grinned wickedly.

Feeling a hand pat his back, d'Artagnan was surprised to see Athos sympathizing with him.

"You will be our youngest Musketeer ever when the time comes and best get used to the teasing now rather than later," Athos dismounted from Roger and let him loose in a grassy area near where they'd make their camp for the night.

"If we don't tease you, d'Artagnan," Aramis' brown eyes crinkled up at the corners, "that would mean we don't care."

"But we do, lad," Porthos' smile was genuine as he gazed at d'Artagnan. "Now will someone help me down?" he looked hard at Athos and Aramis who were taking care of their horses. "Me legs feel like lead weights for some reason."

"I'll help you," d'Artagnan offered as he quickly dismounted Zad. But he didn't take into consideration Porthos' massive bulk vs. his own lean one. As Porthos was trying to dismount, d'Artagnan placed his arm around the Musketeer's waist... _bad decision._ As Porthos leaned back a tad too much, it threw d'Artagnan off balance and he started to fall sideways with Porthos landing on top of him with a loud whoosh of air being released from d'Artagnan's lips.

"Mon Dieu!" Aramis cried out at the same time Athos swore, both looking at the scene that in other circumstances would have been hilarious to any other observer.

Both of them rushed over to remove Porthos' weight from the youngster's unmoving body.

Immediately Aramis felt for anything broken or sprained on the boy while d'Artagnan tried to bat his hands away the entire time.

"I'm fine," d'Artagnan was irritated over Aramis' concern over a simple tumble to the ground.

"Last time I looked," Aramis held up his hand for the boy to stop speaking, "I was the medic... not you." Quickly finishing his exam, Aramis held up his hand again. "How many fingers?"

Both eyebrows shooting to near his hairline, d'Artagnan stared at Aramis as if the man had gone daft in the head. "Porthos didn't fall on my head!"

"That remains to be seen," Athos drawled out while Porthos, who stood beside him, appeared shamefaced.

Satisfied when the lad told him the correct number of digits Aramis announced, "The pup's fine," he laughed as d'Artagnan scowled at him. "Mad at being called _pup_ again or that I agreed with your own earlier diagnosis?"

"Both!" d'Artagnan retorted, standing back up. "I'll go gather wood to make a fire."

Watching the lad stomp away, a small smile appeared on Athos' face. "We should not torture the child so."

"This coming from you," Aramis pretended shock.

"He seems like a good soul," Athos tended to Roger's needs even though he knew Aramis was waiting to hear more. "I like d'Artagnan." And that was all he was going to offer his friend for now.

Humming to himself Aramis shook his head and then tended to his own mount, taking Belle over to join Roulette. Leaning over he whispered in Porthos' ear, the latter was feeding an apple to Roulette. "Athos is finally getting soft in his old age."

After Roulette finished eating, Porthos began removing the saddle from his horse's back. Turning toward his brother, a frown creased his forehead. "What are you on about now?"

"He likes d'Artagnan."

"Yeah," Porthos grunted as he placed his saddle on the ground along with the other tack, "so do I. So what?"

"You're missing the point," Aramis hissed.

"And what _point_ would that be?" Athos had come up behind Aramis without being detected, for he knew his friend was talking about him.

Being caught out like a child with its hand in a cookie jar, Aramis had the grace to appear chagrined. Keeping quiet he watched Athos turn right around and walk over toward where d'Artagnan was tending their campfire.

"Ya never learn, Mis," Porthos bumped his shoulder into the other man's as he brushed past him.

Throwing his hat down on top of his bedroll, Aramis sighed in frustration. "I guess I don't," he mumbled to himself.

++++

Later in the evening as the Musketeers and d'Artagnan turned in for the night a group of eight Red Guards, led by Captain d'Estaing, circled the camp. Of course none of them were in their regular garb for fear of detection. No blame could ever be laid at Cardinal Richelieu's feet or all their lives were forfeit.

Seeing that the Musketeers appeared to be sleeping, d'Estaing smiled to himself. He talked in low urgent tones to his men. "There won't be a better time than now to make our move." Using hand signals he gave orders to fan out. Soon the inseparables would be dead he thought and three less thorns in the cardinal's side for His Eminence to deal with. d'Estaing did notice a fourth man was with them but didn't give it much thought figuring the unknown individual would just be collateral damage. Finally he gave the silent command to commence.

Waking up to musketfire wasn't the most pleasant experience a man could have but unfortunately an all to familiar one in the life of a Musketeer. So when a musket ball whizzed past Porthos' head he instantly reached for his own musket and pistols that were never far out of his reach. He was in rare fighting form now as he made each of his own shots count. As were all of his brothers from what he cold see from the glow of their campfire.

This was not conducive for a good night's sleep Athos mused to himself as he took down two assailants with his pistols. Then pulled out his rapier to pierce another assailant that dared disturb his slumber.

"Did you arrange this little party as a test for d'Artagnan's benefit?" Aramis asked Athos while he took careful aim with his musket and shot one of the canailles directly in the chest.

"That's a jest right?" Porthos snorted as he crushed the windpipe of his attacker who thought he could get the better of him. More fool he.

The inseparables were so focused on their own individual battles, and trying to stay alive, that none of them paid any attention to d'Artagnan. The boy was holding his own relatively well until it ended up three to one. Then the odds were definitely beginning to feel stacked against him.

Furiously fighting off a man who threatened to turn his insides out with his blade, d'Artagnan countered the attack with his own rapier in a series of lunges in quick succession. So fast was his speed that the canaille couldn't keep up and stumbled only to fall on top of his own main gauche that he held in his hand, instantly causing his own death.

But then d'Artagnan's luck, or rather _bad_ luck, ran out as it was too late to dodge the next shot coming his way. D'Artagnan was knocked completely off his feet from the impact of a musket ball, flinging him backwards, making him just miss landing in the campfire.

"D'ARTAGNAN!" Athos screamed, finishing off his opponent with a mighty thrust through the man's throat. "COVER ME!" he shouted to his brothers.

"Merde!" Porthos bellowed as he noticed the lad lying on the ground bleeding profusely from a gaping wound in his side. "MIS!" Hurry it up! The whelp needs ya!"

Following Porthos' gaze Aramis blanched, sickened by the sight of the youngster hurt so. So incensed was he that Aramis took off the head of the next canaille who challenged him with a clean shot fired from his harquebus.

The few men that were left alive scattered off into the darkness, their tails between their legs. Porthos patrolled the area to make sure they had cleared out. Then he rejoined his brothers as Athos hovered near Aramis' shoulder.

"What do you need?" Athos watched anxiously as Aramis tried to staunch the continuous flow of blood pouring out of the boy.

"I need boiled water, clean rags and someone get my medical bag," Aramis knew d'Artagnan still lived judging by the lad's shallow breathing and sluggish movements of the younger man's limbs. Still, he placed two fingers on the side of d'Artagnan's neck and felt the thrum of life there. Wearily, Aramis rubbed at his forehead, leaving a trail of the boy's blood across it which made him appear grotesque by the light of the fire.

"How bad?" Porthos couldn't believe how things went to hell in a handbasket so quickly.

Concentrating on keeping the child alive, Aramis nearly didn't answer the query. "The ball is lodged in his side, very close to his ribcage. If d'Artagnan's lucky it only clipped one of them."

"And if he was unlucky?" Athos was afraid of the answer.

"It could have ricocheted off one and hit a vital organ," he opened his bag to dig out his supplies. "My main concern is getting that ball out of him and hope it didn't cause too much damage along the way as it entered our pup. Because if d'Artagnan ends up bleeding internally there isn't much I can do." Studying the unconscious youth, Aramis muttered, "Why couldn't the ball have gone all the way through. It would have caused less damage that way." Sighing he bent his head, made the sign of the cross and reached for his instruments. "Now, mon freres, would be a good time to say a few prayers." Silence greeted his ears except for the labored breathing of the boy.

"If I thought God would pay attention to mine I would," Athos murmured quietly.

"I already done said a few," Porthos gave Athos a weary smile. "Guess that'll cover the both of us."

"Whatever happens," Athos said, "our journey to Rouen has taken a decided detour, and I do not believe Monsieur Tremblay will get his deliveries on time.

++++

_Notes:_

People from Rouen are called Rouennais

Joan of Arc was executed in 1431 in the city of Rouen


	5. Chapter 5

_Same day, same time, late evening – Musketeer campsite after the battle_

Porthos and Athos anxiously hovered near Aramis as the medic dug out the musketball from the injured boy. Neither man knew if it was a good sign or not that d’Artagnan hadn’t regained consciousness. But considering that Aramis was currently digging out the projectile, perhaps it was a good thing after all.

Whenever Aramis needed hot water, Porthos made sure he had it ready and anything else Aramis needed. While Athos made himself useful by tearing apart their spare, clean shirts to be used for cleaning up the blood and bandages.

“Mis?” Porthos hadn’t heard a word out of his friend for the past twenty minutes. He was getting nervous thinking about all the things that could go wrong.

Wiping his forehead again, Aramis held the bloody musketball high enough in the air for his comrades to see, as if it were a prize he had won in a competition. Throwing it away as if it were the dirtiest thing in the world, Aramis indicated for Athos to hand him some strips of cloth so that Aramis could clean the area where he had performed field surgery. “Athos, hand me several more please,” he rubbed the back of his neck then glanced upward murmuring a prayer. Looking toward where the two men stood, Aramis nodded toward the youngster. “All that’s left for me to do is wrap d’Artagnan’s injury and then we wait.”

“Do ya feel the whelp will be all right?” Porthos bit his lip, thinking that surely God didn’t need another angel in heaven just yet.

“The boy has a fighting chance now, mon frère,” Aramis murmured softly as he finished wrapping the wound. Looking up at his friends, Aramis realized that he never asked if they had any wounds that needed tended. “Any injuries to speak of?”

“A mere trifle,” Athos shrugged casually, touching his neck with a hand. His fingers came away with only a slight smattering of blood on them.

“Takes more than a little musketball and a sharp blade ta bring me down,” Porthos boasted, as he too touched a few bloody nicks and cuts with his fingers.

“The next few hours will be telling,” Aramis went over to a pot of warm, clean water to wash the blood away from his hands. “If d’Artagnan doesn’t develop a fever from infection or if his overall condition doesn’t deteriorate for any reason,” Aramis sighed, “I’ll be a happy man.”

All three of them took turns keeping vigil over their youngest throughout the long night. Each one thinking on how they were going to explain to Captain Treville why the son of his best friend nearly died on their _simple_ assignment. Though until morning dawned they wouldn't know for sure if d'Artagnan was going to be out of the woods.

When it was Athos’ turn, the older Musketeer sat close to the boy’s bedroll. He kept one hand on d’Artagnan’s head, his fingers gently stroking through the child’s hair, while the other was placed on the lad’s chest, feeling the rise and fall of every breath d’Artagnan took. “If you can fight to prove your worth in becoming a Musketeer, d’Artagnan,” he whispered out loud, “I know you’ll pull through this.” Please do not prove me wrong, boy, he thought silently to himself.

++++

_Next morning_

As Porthos had relieved Athos earlier, he laid the back of his large hand on the child’s forehead and was pleased to feel it cool beneath his touch. He was greatly relieved to find no hint of fever draining the boy. Feeling a presence standing behind him he turned his head slightly. “Mornin’, Mis.”

“Is it?” Aramis queried, his weary eyes rested on d’Artagnan. He wasn’t used to the pup being so quiet. The lad was always full of so much energy, going here and there that even Aramis had a hard time keeping track of d’Artagnan’s whereabouts.

“Ya bet it is,” Porthos pointed to the still unconscious youth. “No fever,” he grinned.

“Ah!” Aramis laughed for the first time since d’Artagnan was shot. “Good news indeed.”

“When do you feel d’Artagnan can be safely moved? I do not enjoy feeling so exposed out in the open as we are now?” Athos joined and was pleased at the good news given to them by Porthos. Staring down at the child, Athos deeply worried if the coming journey back to Paris would be a setback in d’Artagnan’s recovery.

“We need to procure a wagon to take him home in.” Right after Aramis said this he heard d’Artagnan mumble something unintelligible. He wasn't sure if the lad was trying to wake up or was talking in his sleep.

Bending down on one knee, Athos leaned in close to the boy and heard d’Artagnan repeat what he was trying to say. Smiling as he stood back up, Athos turned to his brothers. “D'Artagnan was saying the word - _home_ ,” catching Aramis’ eye Athos grinned. “The lad heard you.”

"Our whelp's gonna be just fine, yeah," Porthos exchanged relieved looks with his brothers. Now all they had to do was concentrate on getting home in one piece.

"Porthos could you go scout the area to see if we're nearby any homes that may be able to provide the transportation our poor d'Artagnan needs?" Aramis was pleased to see how fast his large friend moved to respond to his request as Porthos gave him a quick wink and in short order had Roulette all saddled to go.

++++

_Thirty minutes later_

Arriving back to their campsite, Porthos was happy he didn't come back empty handed.

Athos and Aramis turned around at the sounds of a wagon approaching being driven by what appeared to be a pair of farmers, judging by their attire.

"Made new friends I see during the short time you've been away from us, Porthos," Aramis waved at the two men.

"Believe it or not," Porthos chuckled as he dismounted, "I met these two gentlemen on the road and explained our circumstances."

"We travel to Paris when we have business to conduct," the one man said. Introducing himself he nodded to the other two Musketeers. "I am Marc and this is my neighbor, Noel."

"Tis a pleasure to meet you both," Athos said, letting a small smile past his lips. Holding out his hand he pointed over to where d'Artagnan laid, nestled under several blankets. "As you can see we are in dire need of transportation for our wounded youngster."

"As Porthos explained to us," Noel grimly noted how pale the lad was. "We already made room for the boy." He and Marc jumped down from their wagon. "We're ready whenever you are."

It took about fifteen minutes to transfer d'Artagnan safely to the back of the wagon without jarring his injury and making sure they made the lad as comfortable as they could.

"I believe we are good to go now," Athos strode over to where Roger quietly waited.

++++

_Mid afternoon - Musketeer Garrison_

A knock on his door had Treville lifting his head in annoyance. Pinching the bridge of his nose, thinking he wasn't destined to finish his report for the king, Treville yelled for whoever it was to come in.

Noticing it was a white faced Peire standing hesitantly in the entrance, Treville waved the man inside. "Do not tell me someone shot themselves in the foot or, better yet, took a potshot at poor Serge?"

"Cap... Captain," Peire stammered, "the inseparables have returned."

Standing up so fast, Treville tipped his chair over. "What the deuce do you mean? It's too damn soon!" Not waiting for an answer, Treville raced past Peire and down the steps two at a time to meet the wagon and riders as they entered past the garrison gates.

He silently counted heads. Porthos... Aramis... Athos plus two men he didn't recognize... and then his heart stopped. No d'Artagnan he thought. It didn't take a genius to figure out who was in the back of the wagon after that. Not even realizing where his feet carried him, Treville found himself staring down at the boy who appeared to be simply sleeping. But as the blanket covering d'Artagnan slipped further down, Treville noted the bloody bandages covering a wound.

"Merde!" Snapping his head up, Treville's fiery gaze encountered the wary ones of his men. "You three will fill me in as soon as we get the boy settled in the infirmary!" Turning away from them he went over to the two men driving the wagon. Appropriate introductions were made and then Treville gratefully gave his thanks. "On behalf of myself and the king, Merci," he found his attention straying back over to the inseparables who were carefully removing d'Artagnan from the wagon with some help of several of their brothers who had crowded around the group. His attention back on the kind farmers once more he asked them, "Is there anything I can do to help you during your stay in Paris?"

The men both shook their heads at the captain. "We were glad to have been of some help," Marc said and watched as the Musketeers removed the lad from their wagon to carry the boy over to their infirmary.

"Still," Treville cleared his throat, "if you need any help with anything at all just come see me."

"Our thanks," Noel inclined his head in acknowledgement of the kind offer. Then clicking his tongue he shook the reins of their team as he turned their wagon around to leave the garrison.

++++

_Palais-Cardinal_

Seeing four injured Red Guards standing at attention before him, including Captain d'Estaing, Richelieu's eyes narrowed fractionally. "Captain, where are the rest of your men?"

"Dead, Your Eminence."

"Dare I hope the same could be said of the inseparables?" But seeing his captain's head hang down in shame, Richelieu let out a slow breath. " _THEY YET LIVE!_ " he thundered, standing up to go around his desk.

His displeasure shook the four guards so badly they began to tremble. It was a wonder they didn't piss in their pants, so great was their fear.

"In our defense," d'Estaing said, "they were aided by another."

"Matters not!" Richelieu snapped. "You still outnumbered them." Then curiosity got the better of him. "Who was their fourth?"

The three guards shrugged in unison and then glanced over at their captain. Leaving it up to him to respond.

"I do not know, Your Eminence," d'Estaing reluctantly admitted. "He was quite young to be helping them on their mission. Couldn't have been anymore than seventeen or eighteen years of age." Feeling a bit smug he added, "Though we managed to give the boy a serious injury."

A decidedly unpleasant feeling entered the pit of Richelieu's stomach at d'Estaing's words. His legs suddenly didn't seem able to support his weight as they felt like jelly. But somehow he managed to get back to his chair and plop down into it. Rubbing his forehead back and forth, Richelieu couldn't even look upon his men as he asked, "Describe this boy to me?" he ordered sharply.

"Tall, slim," d'Estaing frowned in concentration, "shoulder length brown hair." As he gave the description of the boy, it appeared as if the cardinal was ready to explode. The man's face was turning a mottled shade of red. Fearing to say anything further to upset His Eminence, d'Estaing was not going to continue but thought better on it. Brushing aside his misgivings he added, "At one point I got close enough to see that the boy had the look of a Gascon about him." Whatever else he was going to say was cut off by the cardinal's mighty roar.

" _BY GOD!! I SHOULD HAVE YOU ALL LINED UP AGAINST THE WALL TO FACE THE FIRING SQUAD!_ " Richlieu had shot up out of his chair once more, making his way to his men as he paced furiously up and down in front of them. " _IMBECILES, THE LOT OF YOU! YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT YOU HAVE DONE!_ "

And indeed, the three bewildered guards, along with their captain, didn't know what the cardinal was going on about. All they knew was that Richelieu was spitting nails at them and they feared for their very own lives at this point.

Glaring at his three Red Guards, Richelieu snapped his fingers. "As of now you are decomissioned," his brows drew together as he shot a murderous look their way. "Now get out of my sight!" Turning his furious gaze upon d'Estaing, Richlieu stood nose to nose with the officer. "And _you_ are headed for the Bastille!"

"But... but what have I done wrong, Your Eminence?"

" _YOU DARE QUESTION ME?_ " Richelieu shouted into the captain's face. He turned his back on the man as he walked away from him, then pivoting on his heels got right back up into d'Estaing's face again. "The fault lies with you not finding out who else traveled with those Musketeers and reporting it back to me first thing before following them out." Marching over to the exit, Richelieu threw open the doors and hollered out for any guards on duty.

When the Red Guards entered his office, Richelieu pointed to his now ex-captain. "Remove him from my sight and make sure to take him to the Bastille immediately!" Knowing his men were stunned at the treatment of their captain, Richelieu cared not. The only thing of great import for him now was how grievously injured d'Artagnan was and if his son yet lived.


	6. Chapter 6

_Same day, still mid-afternoon - Musketeer Garrison, Infirmary_

"Doctor Devereaux, how fares the boy?" Treville's gruff voice filled the silence of the infirmary as d'Artagnan was currently the only patient in the room. He looked down into the very pale face of the lad whom he had promised Alexandre and Francoise he would protect as best he could while under his care. Running a hand over his head, he bent it to stare with unseeing eyes at the floor. He didn't understand how such a simple assignment could have turned out to be almost d'Artagnan's death sentence.

Looking at the solemn expressions the inseparables wore they too appeared to be feeling the same as Treville. Athos had the look of one who had lost a limb while Porthos appeared ready to start a brawl and Aramis, oh Aramis, Treville's gaze lingered on the medic the longest. His marksman was on his knees by the boy's bed, head bent in prayer. He's wondered more than once how long he'd be able to hang on to Aramis. The church had a stronger hold on him than the Musketeers had and Treville feared he'd be losing the man sooner than he'd like to a monk's robes. With the arrival of d'Artagnan though, Treville had hoped the boy would bring the inseparables closer together than ever before. He was their petit frere now and needed guidance on his rocky road to becoming a fully fledged Musketeer.

"I've said it before," Devereaux pointed over to where Aramis was, "Aramis' talents for healing are quite remarkable. His efforts are the reason the youngster lives."

"So d'Artagnan will be fine then?" Treville's gaze never strayed from the boy's still form underneath a pile of blankets that Athos kept fidgiting with.

"I'd say the lad will be out of here and pestering all of you within the week," Devereaux smiled and patted the concerned captain on the arm before walking away.

Crossing over to d'Artagan's bedside, Treville's eyes took stock of his men again. "This is not the time nor place to discuss this but since you are all here and d'Artagnan is asleep," he stabbed his lieutenant with a cool look, "care to tell me what happened?"

"Well we never made it to Rouen," Athos admitted wryly as he held out the two packages previously given to him by Treville.

Taking them from his lieutenant, Treville sighed. "I figured as much because of your early arrival back to the garrison. I'll have to send another unit out to deliver these parcels to Monsieur Tremblay." Shaking his head ruefully, Treville looked resigned as his gaze took in the sheepish expressions of his soldiers. "I don't know how you three managed to do it. But now it would appear that you've dragged d'Artagnan into _finding_ trouble."

Porthos looked like he was about to argue that point but noted Aramis shake his head at him, so Porthos kept his mouth shut as he sat by d'Artagnan's bed, his large hand resting on the whelp's leg.

"I suggest that all of you get some rest," Treville nodded at his men then walked back over to the doctor. "Keep me apprised if there are any changes in the boy's condition."

"Fine, fine," Devereaux smiled, "but I don't expect any complications at this juncture."

"At least there is some good news." With one last look at the youngster resting quietly, Treville departed.

++++

As Treville closed the door behind him, turning around he nearly bumped into Cardinal Richelieu. Shocked into silence he waited for the cardinal to speak first.

"Captain," Richelieu acknowledged with a slight dip of his head.

"Do you not have your own palace physician?" Treville asked, for there was no reason that he knew of for the cardinal to be here unless he was unwell and neither his or even the king's doctor were available to him.

"I heard what happened to d'Artagnan and wanted to check on him," Richelieu explained with a warning look to his own Red Guards that hovered close by. He did not want his men near enough to hear their conversation.

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Treville's eyes narrowed on the other man. He wondered what was behind that cool facade of His Eminence'. First Richelieu talked with d'Artagnan about joining the Red Guards when the lad was on parade duty and now he was visiting the child. The back of his neck prickled, as it was wont to do when trouble brewed. "Odd your interest in the boy."

Taking exception to being questioned in such a way, Richelieu glared fiercely into Treville's curious eyes. Realizing he had to choose his words wisely Richelieu calmed himself down enough to say, "I still harbor high hopes of changing the lad's mind into joining my Red Guards so naturally I'm interested in d'Artagnan's overall health."

"Mmmmmm," Treville hummed softly, not buying it for a second. Holding the door open for the cardinal, Treville bowed and waved the man inside without further ado.

++++

Three heads turned as one to see who had entered the infirmary this time and all were astounded to see Cardinal Richelieu standing there. Immediately the inseparables stood up in his presence and bowed to the waist.

Joining the men around d'Artagnan's bedside, Richelieu stared down upon the boy with an indescribable look on his face. "Is he still unconscious?"

"Non," Aramis answered immediately. "D'Artagnan had awakened shortly after being brought up here," turning his head Aramis located where Devereaux was. "He was in pain and so the doctor gave d'Artagnan some laudanum which made him sleepy," he carded his fingers gently through d'Artagnan's hair hearing the boy murmuring in Gascon but not understanding the words.

"He misses his home," Richelieu noted quietly, then wished he could have reached behind himself to give his ass a swift kick as the three Musketeers focused all their attention on him.

"You understand the Gascon language, My Lord?" Athos shouldn't have been surprised, but after the cardinal's interest in the pup during their last encounter, he told himself to be on the alert for Richelieu's intentions toward their youngest.

"Oui," Richelieu reluctantly nodded. Knowing he had to explain himself he said, "My hometown was in Lucon, quite close to Gascony. As a young bishop in charge of my familles bishopric I found myself traveling there many a time on church business," he shrugged. "So it is not out of the norm that I am acquainted with the Gascon tongue."

Figuring he'd already given too much away, Richelieu grew uncomfortable under their curious looks. "Do I assume that d'Artagnan is not at death's door?"

"I administered treatment at the scene," Aramis admitted. "I believe that is what gave d'Artagnan a fighting chance against infection setting in."

"And which has resulted in saving the boy's life." Doctor Devereaux went to check d'Artagnan's vitals and after listening to the lad's heart glanced over at the cardinal. "The boy couldn't have been in finer hands than Aramis'." Seeing the blush that rose high on the Musketeer's cheeks, Devereaux grinned.

"Then thank God for him," Richelieu announced gratefully. Placing a fingertip on d'Artagnan's forehead he traced the sign of the cross. Turning away to leave, he threw last words over his shoulder. "Doctor, please keep me informed on the young man's condition."

After the door closed behind him Devereaux gazed in concern at the Musketeers. "Would there be any cause for worry on the cardinal's part pertaining to d'Artagnan?"

"Right stunned me," Porthos grunted sharing odd looks with his two brothers. He wondered what was behind Athos' stoic face though. If the man knew something, Porthos was going to make sure that Athos shared it with him and Aramis later.

"I too was surprised," Aramis continued to look at the door Richelieu just left through as if expecting His Eminence to poke his head back inside any minute.

"I'm going to speak with Treville." Without a word to either of his friends Athos brushed past the doctor, leaving two very confused brothers behind.

++++

_Captain Treville's office_

Finally sitting down behind his desk again to concern himself with other matters, Treville thought perhaps he should write to d'Artagnan's parents but since Doctor Devereaux said the lad would be fine he decided against worrying them.

As he opened one of his ledgers, Treville reached for his quill. Just as he dipped it into the ink well, Athos strode in. "Do not tell me d'Artagnan woke up and tried to escape from the doctor's clutches already?"

"Richelieu visited the boy," Athos arched his eyebrow high enough to show the captain how unsettled he was over this incident. 

Sitting back in his chair, Treville didn't know what the younger man wanted him to say. "So the cardinal is showing that he still has a heart beating in his chest," he waved a hand in the air in dismissal of mentioning something so trite.

"I do not and never will trust that man!" Athos snapped, his blue eyes colder than an ice covered snowcap.

Slowly, Treville nodded his head. "I agree things appear a trifle confused at the moment with the cardinal's actions of late."

"I will find out what is behind this," Athos tipped his hat lower to nearly cover his eyes as he was about to leave but the captain's voice stopped him.

"You will do nothing of the kind!" Treville ordered as he stood up to walk around his desk, confronting his lieutenant. "I don't want you or Aramis or even Porthos to get mixed up in whatever is rummaging around in Richelieu's head right now."

"His interest in the boy worries me greatly," Athos frowned.

"As it does mine," Treville agreed. "I will endeavor to find out what this is all about."

"Did you know that His Eminence speaks Gascon?"

"Oui," Treville said. "He is from Lucon near Gascony," he shrugged. "It would be quite strange if Richelieu wasn't versed in the tongue."

"Hmmmpf," Athos grumbled. "There's something afoot I can feel it."

"You concentrate on keeping my soldiers in line for me," Treville ordered, "and make sure d'Artagnan does not overtax himself once he's released from the infirmary. That is all that should concern you for now."

"Will you inform us what you discover?" Athos' sharp gaze wouldn't let go of Treville's until the older man satisfied him.

"Unless in some way it turns out to be of a personal nature in regards to the lad," Treville's lips firmed, "you will be the first to know."

Knowing the captain would keep his word, Athos dipped his head, pivoted on his heels and left the office.

Rubbing his forehead, Treville prayed that he wasn't the hand that would rock the cradle.


	7. Chapter 7

_Same day, late evening - Palais-Cardinal_

"What do you need, Captain?" Richelieu sat back in his chair observing his rival for King Louis' affections. He was curious as to the nature of this unexpected visit.

"I've been hearing some interesting things in concern with you, Cardinal," Treville's lips curled up into a near smirk. "You've recently de-commissioned several of your Red Guards and threw poor Captain d'Estaing in the Bastille," he tilted his head to the side as he studied Richelieu's face turning a bright shade of red. "That color does not become you in the slightest you know."

"It is no concern of yours or anyone else's what I do with my own men!" Richelieu shouted, standing up to lean over his desk. If he could have reached over it, he'd have strangled Treville with one hand. Then again, he'd have to come up with a plausible reason for having killed King Louis' captain.

"Strange that my Musketeers were attacked on their way to Rouen by no less than nine masked men," Treville folded his arms, relaxing his stance as he meant to have his say. "By all accounts my soldiers managed to kill four of them," his smirk broadened. "Imagine to my surprise that word got around that you lost four of your own in a recent skirmish as well."

"Get to the point! Because knowing you I'm sure there is one," Richelieu snapped, afraid where this was going.

Shrugging nonchalantly, Treville gazed into the cardinal's fierce glare, for once seeing something that completely astounded him... _fear_. "Just simple mathematics."

"You've lost me," Richelieu grumbled. "Quit wasting my time with your nonsense!"

"Watch your step, Cardinal," Treville warned softly. "If I find out that you sent your own guards to kill the inseparables," his eyes narrowed dangerously, "King Louis will be informed and there will be reprisals."

"Speculation," Richelieu scoffed with a careless wave of his hand.

"We shall see," Treville hummed, turning to leave. When he reached the door he glanced over his shoulder and encountered an odd expression crossing the cardinal's face. Richelieu appeared to be in pain or as near to it as he could tell. About to remark on it, Treville changed his mind and left without a word more.

Slumping back down into his chair, Richelieu bent his head. Anyone coming upon him would have thought he was reflecting in prayer. But his _reflections_ were of the dark variety. So dark that it was a wonder he could see daylight.

Treville's abrupt interruption indeed had dampened his mood bringing with it another set of problems. Did the captain have evidence to take to the king? Richelieu didn't believe so. He only believed Treville came to stir up the pot... in other words, to _stir_ him up. Well he did a fine job of it, though the man would never know.

His thoughts fell to concern over his son again. Oh he knew the boy would eventually be well, he had badgered Doctor Devereaux enough over it. But Richelieu worried more on the current animosity that existed between his Red Guards toward the Musketeers in general and visa versa. There would be no way he could protect d'Artagnan from retaliation by his own men for being on the wrong side.

There would be clashes between the two regiments and Richelieu would have to turn a blind eye to the activities of his men or else risk his secret being revealed. Though he should have realized it himself that d'Artagnan would now be going on missions as a recruit. And the rub of that was it would be with those same three damn Musketeers that have managed to become a thorn in his side!

There wasn't anything for it because if he went after Athos, Porthos and Aramis, d'Artagnan could end up the innocent victim of Richelieu's revenge. If that ever happened, he would never forgive himself and nor would his God.

++++

_A month later_

"What exactly is the lesson our Porthos is trying to teach d'Artagnan?" Aramis stood beside Athos, just another curious onlooker at the unexpected entertainment he was currently enjoying.

"I believe Porthos called it _never turn your back on a friend,_ " Athos' blue eyes danced. Watching the pup glare at their giant friend from the boy's position on the hard, dirt ground, Athos concealed his own amusement or else risk the child's ire.

"That _pout_ goes a long way," Aramis mused, watching the young Gascon trying to _guilt_ Porthos.

"It's the boy's trademark maneuver," Athos pointed out albeit dryly.

"Bien," Aramis shrugged, "it can only work for so long before it becomes ineffective."

"Until that time," Athos watched while Porthos lent a hand to the lad, "d'Artagnan will wield it as his secret weapon whenever he deems it necessary."

"Whoa ho!" Aramis chortled, clapping his hands when he saw d'Artagnan unbalance Porthos when the man went to help the boy back up. When his stunned friend hit the dirt, landing smack dab beside d'Artagnan, Aramis couldn't contain his laughter.

"Eh, Mis," Porthos growled, "you'll be joinin' me soon enough if ya don't button your lip!"

"Suitably warned, mon frere," Aramis chuckled warmly, sending a quick wink d'Artagnan's way.

"Ya really askin' for it, Mis!" Porthos snarled, getting back on his feet and dusting himself off. Seeing the whelp do likewise, Porthos had to admit the boy tricked him well and good. "Runt, ya earned yourself a free drink tanight on me," he slapped the youth on the back so hard he nearly sent d'Artagnan into the horse trough.

Grinning from ear to ear d'Artagnan caught Athos' gaze resting on him. Hoping he had done justice to his mentor's lessons, he asked an obvious question. "Did you see me?"

Nodding his head, Athos was pleased to notice that his protégé had shaken off the injury he had sustained from their last assignment when they were ambushed. Getting the better of Porthos was no mean feat and d'Artagnan had handled it like a pro. Though it would be his life if he ever admitted that much to his huge brother. "Remember, d'Artagnan, mind your stitches."

"Oui," Aramis chimed in. "Do not undo my fine needlework again, you young rascal!" It hadn't been more than a week after their young one had been released from the infirmary that Aramis had caught d'Artagnan trying to practice his fencing without his brother's knowledge. The blood that had seeped through the child's shirt made Aramis swear under his breath. When he stopped d'Artagnan and lifted up the boy's shirt Aramis noted that his previously neat stitches had become partially undone. After severely scolding the lad, Aramis literally dragged d'Artagnan by the ear back to the infirmary where he had to make emergency repairs. 

"My faith!" d'Artagnan exclaimed. "You all act as if I were five years of age." Seeing Aramis and Athos exchange wry grins, d'Artagnan pouted, a woebegone look on his young face.

Elbowing Athos in the ribs, Aramis threw a companionable arm across Athos' shoulders. "What does d'Artagnan remind you of?"

"A sad, kicked puppy," Athos lips twitched as his words carried over to the boy who _pouted_ all the more.

"Pay no attention to them goofballs, whelp," Porthos swatted d'Artagnan up the back side of the head, earning a loud yelp from lad who rubbed at the tender area. "I'm the one ya gotta look out for."

Continuing to watch the spectacle, Athos observed d'Artagnan carefully listen to Porthos' wise counsel on the merits of using a sneak attack in hand-to-hand. Tuning out the sounds of d'Artagnan and Porthos grappling with one another again, Athos couldn't help but turn his thoughts toward Cardinal Richelieu. His Eminence was never far from his mind, even though Treville ordered him not to dwell on the man but concern himself with acting as the captain's second in leading the regiment. Still, it was hard not to be worried over Richelieu's interest in their youngest.

"Care to share, mon ami?" Aramis observed the play of emotions crossing Athos' hard features and became unsettled himself.

"They are of no import," Athos replied with a light shrug of one shoulder. "Tis not worth your time and trouble anyway."

"But it's _worth_ yours?" Aramis raised a brow, knowing when he heard an untruth and calling the man on it.

"Aramis."

"Athos."

"I believe I forgot to feed Roger," Athos abruptly announced.

"This conversation isn't over!" Aramis shouted at Athos' retreating back while his friend headed for the stable.

"It's _never_ over with you!" Athos tossed over his shoulder with a wave of his hand.

"What was that all about?" Porthos wondered at the stern expression covering the sharpshooter's face and the speed at which Athos distanced himself from them.

Tipping his hat up further, Aramis huffed. "That's what I'd like to know."

++++

_Palais-Cardinal_

After Treville left his office, Richelieu had gone over to his safe and took out the letter Francoise had sent him. Apparently he didn't have the good sense God had given him to destroy it. Sitting back down he carefully perused the missive once more. When finished, he tapped his long fingers on the letter while staring a hole through it. Just as Richelieu went to pick it up again his door burst open.

"Your Eminence," a Red Guard spoke, "apologies for the interruption. But there is need of your assistance over at the palace on a grave matter for the king."

"What has happened this time?" Richelieu drawled, knowing how King Louis could make a mountain out of a mole hill.

"His Majesty is on the verge of wringing Comte Villeneuve's neck," the guard's eyes appeared confused. "Over what I do not know."

Snapping his fingers for the guard to retrieve his cape that lay on a chair across the room, Richelieu sighed. "Matters not. I best go referee before the king offends Villeneuve in such a way that even I cannot make amends." His immediate thoughts upon the ramifications on what was happening at the palace, Richelieu totally forgot the letter on his desk.

++++

Having not left the Palais-Cardinal yet, for Treville had other matters to see too, he realized there was something he left unsaid. Heading back to the cardinal's office, Treville was surprised to find there weren't any guards in attendance. No matter, he was used to arriving unannounced and so stepped inside the room. Not seeing Richelieu about, Treville was going to leave until curiosity got the better of him when he noticed a single sheet of paper on the cardinal's desk.

It wasn't often that Treville got to spy on Richelieu and he'd take any and every opportunity afforded him. Since he was alone Treville had no qualms about reading the missive. But when he did his mouth dropped open at its contents. "Mon Dieu!" the letter slipped through his fingers to fall gently on the desk top. What he had just read was damning... for Richelieu that is. All the disturbing past actions of the cardinal's now added up, but the results were anything but welcome.


	8. Chapter 8

_Next day, early morning - Garrison canteen_

Treville sat by himself, leaning over his solitary mug of steaming coffee. Staring into the dark liquid his thoughts were mixed. What should he do with the information he now possessed? He knew not. Pushing his mug aside he ran both of his hands over his face. He couldn't get over the fact that Francoise and Richelieu had a past relationship. They were different as night and day and yet had managed to come together to create a precious life... that of the young man Treville had through the years watched grow up. It had to have happened when Francoise had been quite young for he knew without a shadow of a doubt how much she loved Alexandre. Hearing a disturbance in the background, Treville sat up straighter recognizing the deep timber of Porthos' voice. It would seem his men were now arriving to partake of breakfast.

++++

Keeping his hands on d'Artagnan's slim shoulders, Porthos steered the whelp toward their regular table until he pushed the boy down into a chair. Seeing the scowl on the lad's face he chuckled. "We gotta fatten ya up some more," he pinched d'Artagnan's cheek, "put a wee bit more meat on them bones of yours."

Letting out a rush of air, d'Artagnan crossed his arms, looking for all the world like a belligerent child told to eat something he disliked. "I'm naturally lean, Porthos," he shook his head while glaring at the smirk Athos' wore. Aramis wasn't much better as the marksman's eyes danced merrily. "One of these days all your efforts to feed me is going to backfire."

Tearing off a piece of bread from the warm loaf Serge placed on their table, Aramis stopped just short of putting it into his mouth. "How so?"

"I'll get too fat to get on my horse and you all will have to lend me a hand to mount Zad," d'Artagnan took a sip of his hot coffee.

"I doubt it will come to that, d'Artagnan," Athos' amused gaze rested on the boy who had come to mean much to him in the short time of their acquaintance. Becoming his petit frere was just one of many things that made d'Artagnan special to him. His skill with a blade was more than impressive, for the pup gave even Athos a run for his money during practice. Though he kept that to himself, refusing to admit it to their youngest, not wanting d'Artagnan to give himself airs.

"Gents," Treville wandered over before leaving for his office. His eyes settled briefly on the boy. "How fares everyone this fine morn?"

"As you can see, Captain," Aramis grinned and waved his arm to encompass all his brothers, "we are hail and hearty and await your orders."

"Do not become too h _ail and hearty_ ," Treville jested, "else you will not be able to function for the rest of the day."

"Eh, Captin'," Porthos smiled, "we ain't goin' out carousin' the streets in look of a tavern ta drown ourselves in ya know."

"All right," Treville's snuff of laughter brought an answering snort from d'Artagnan, "I'll give you all the benefit of the doubt." Laying a hand on top of the boy's arm, Treville noted the lad's questioning gaze rest on him. "I would like to see you after you've finished your lessons for the day."

Nodding his head, d'Artagnan watched the captain leave. A worried look marred his young features as he wondered what Treville needed to see him about. Feeling a light tap on the side of his cheek, he turned his head and encountered Aramis looking at him with concern.

"Do not frown so," Aramis said with a smile, "it creates premature wrinkles," he laughed. "It's not like the captain hasn't talked with you in private before."

"You haven't done anything wrong," Athos pointed out. "Treville more than likely wants to assign you some other duties."

"Probably wants ya ta muck out the stables... _again_." Porthos reached for the basket of hot biscuits Serge brought and started to pull it towards him until Athos slapped at his hands. "Hey! I want them back!"

"We'd like to have some as well," Athos arched his brow.

"I was gonna share," Porthos pouted.

"Sure you were, mon ami," Arams laughed with a sideways look at d'Artagnan. The latter hiding his amusement in his coffee mug.

"Now as to Porthos' suggestion," Athos winked at the boy, "I highly doubt that is what is on Treville's mind."

"And ya would know this _how_?" Porthos tilted his head studying the man. "Ya don't read minds," he glanced at Aramis and d'Artagnan, "at least not yet." His comment made all the men laugh.

When the rest of their order had been served, the teasing and conversation ceased while they enjoyed their breakfast.

++++

_Mid afternoon - Captain Treville's office_

Studying palace blueprints for an upcoming event of the king's that Treville wanted to make sure was covered from every angle, he really didn't see them as the markings blurred before him. Shoving the blueprints aside, he abruptly stood up to pace his room. The knowledge Treville now had wouldn't leave him in peace. Realizing he couldn't wait any longer, he walked out onto the balcony overlooking the courtyard. Observing d'Artagnan as the boy practiced with Athos, Treville still was in awe over the lad's skill. It was right that the youngster was here with them training to become one of the finest Musketeers Treville had ever seen. He had to make sure that Richelieu's reach didn't deter the child's progress. So with that thought in mind he called out, "D'Artagnan!" He waited until the boy heard and acknowledged him. "I'd like to see you now."

Worry getting the best of him, d'Artagnan bit his lip while watching Athos come towards him. "You said I didn't do anything wrong," he glanced up at the captain's office, "so why all of a sudden does it feel as if I did?" Staring at his rapier, d'Artagnan's mind raced over the last few days and nothing came to mind that Treville could take him to task over.

Placing a finger under the younger man's chin, Athos tilted it upward. "Perhaps it is just like I mentioned over breakfast that he wants to give you a few new assignments."

Briefly smiling, d'Artagnan nodded his head at his mentor's reassurances. Handing Athos his sword, d'Artagnan ran his sweaty hands down the sides of his pant legs. Then he took the stairs to the captain's office slowly, still contemplating the reasons for being called there before he was done training.

++++

Seeing the look of trepidation on d'Artagnan's face, Treville sighed. It appeared that he already troubled the boy without saying a word yet. With his hand he indicated for the lad to take a seat. When d'Artagnan did, Treville leaned forward on his desk. "I've come, quite unexpectedly, into some information that pertains to you and I've been of two minds of what to do about it." Nervous he bounded up from his chair to walk around his desk and perch on its edge. Looking fondly down upon the youngster, Treville calmed himself. "I fear of your reaction and do not want you to go off half cocked when I reveal to you what I have discovered."

Confused, still not understanding what his captain was about to say, d'Artagnan stared back at him apprehensively. "If it is something you feel I should be aware of and affects me then you have my permission to do so. Whether it be something unpleasant or not."

" _Unpleasant_ ," Treville repeated softly. "You could say that fits what I'm about to divulge." Briefly staring at his hands folded on his lap he then locked eyes with the boy. "Remember one thing, d'Artagnan, both your parents greatly love one another."

"I know that," d'Artagnan couldn't imagine what his parents had to do with this conversation unless one of them had taken ill. If that were the case d'Artagnan would head back to Gascony as fast as Zad could fly.

"Hold onto that thought, son," Treville knew this had to be said and told himself to quit dithering about. "There's no kind way to tell you this, but when I went to visit Cardinal Richelieu yesterday I had forgotten to tell him something else and went back to his office again only to find that he had just left. But I spotted a letter on his desk and well," he shrugged, "I took advantage of his absence and read it."

"I understand your reasoning behind doing something of that nature," d'Artagnan commented. " _Take every advantage_ I believe Athos has been trying to drill into me."

"Just so," Treville was briefly amused by the boy's words. "But in this instance I wished I had never caught sight of that missive for it contained a startling revelation involving you."

" _Me_?" This alarmed d'Artagnan more than he cared to admit. What in the world would the cardinal be in possession of that concerned him, a simple Gascon farm boy who came to Paris to train as a Musketeer?

"I couldn't take the letter with me of course," Treville told him. "But the words are burned into my memory nevertheless," he sighed. "Truth of the matter is that it came from your mother, d'Artagnan."

Standing up so abruptly that his chair fell over, d'Artagnan backed away from the captain as if he had the plague. "Why? Why would she have written to _him_?"

"That's what confused me at first too until I read the whole thing," Treville got back to his feet and went to stand in front of the distressed child. "She wrote warning the cardinal of your acceptance in becoming a recruit in my regiment."

"I'm at a complete loss to understand any of this," d'Artagnan ran a hand through his hair. "Maman writing to _that_ man," he spat out with disgust evident in his tone. For he too disliked the cardinal with his backstabbing ways. He may have not been in Paris long but had been told many a tale concerning Richelieu's clandestine affairs... for the good of France of course.

"If you would do me the kindness of letting me finish you will," Treville took pity on the lad knowing he'd be reacting the same way if roles were reversed. "Reading it I was shocked to the core to find out that Francoise and Richelieu apparently had a relationship together. Whether prior to her marriage to Alexandre or just at the beginning I know not." He momentarily turned his back on the stunned boy, Treville's chin nearly touched his chest as he took a moment. Turning around he braced himself for d'Artagnan's reaction. "You have to be brave, mon garcon, for what I'm about to tell you will not be something you wish to hear."

"You've already told me more than enough to know I'm not my papa's true son," d'Artagnan said in a hushed tone. He was not an imbecile, having read between the lines of the little Treville had told him so far. "I'm the cardinal's bastard child."

"Which now makes Richelieu's sudden interest in you all the clearer," Treville stabbed the boy with a penetrating look, "and all the more dangerous."

Lips trembling with the effort of containing his rage at past indiscretions now coming back to affect him, d'Artagnan's eyes filled with unshed tears. "No more!" he shouted. "I do not want to hear anything further!" He raced out of the office and down the steps, oblivious to the sounds of his captain shouting after him.

Leaning against the bench, Athos had been patiently waiting for d'Artagnan to return so they could discuss whatever it was that Treville had called the boy up for. Seeing their youngest running past him took him off guard for a moment that Athos thought he was seeing things. He was about to give chase when a hand on his arm stopped him. Shaking it off, Athos turned around ready to vent his anger on the person who dared prevent him from going after his protégé. Seeing that it was the captain startled him at first. Then noticing the tight lines forming around Treville's mouth, Athos frowned. "What happened?"

"The boy's going to need you now more than ever, Athos," Treville's voice was stiff. "You, Aramis and Porthos are going to have to be strong for d'Artagnan's sake from this point onward."

"We already are?" Athos wasn't sure where this conversation was leading too and his frustration mounted. Part of him still needed to go fetch the lad back but the other part needed to hear his captain out.

"None of you are ready for this, least of all d'Artagnan," Treville removed his hat and placed it on the bench. "Athos, you'll be the steadfast rock the lad will cling too. I know that as sure as I know my own name," he pursed his lips. "I'm banking on that being the one real thread that will hold d'Artagnan together so the boy won't fall completely apart."

"I do not scare easily, as you well know," Athos remarked dryly, "but right now I could claim to being somewhat _rattled_."

"I've told d'Artagnan what I felt he needed to know, if for any other reason, to protect himself," Treville noted that Athos was becoming impatient for more information. "I now leave it in the lad's hands to make you three aware of what I disclosed to him."

"Then I now have your permission to go seek him out?" Athos gripped the pommel of his sword tightly.

"Oui," Treville's eyes were solemn as he looked at his lieutenant. "Go with caution, Athos. The pup's devastated."

Leaving the captain behind Athos went in search of their young one praying that d'Artagnan wouldn't do anything foolish, even though Athos still wasn't privy to what had caused the boy to dash off the way he had.


	9. Chapter 9

_Same day_

Where could d'Artagnan have gone? Athos had taken Roger out of the garrison to chase after the boy. But the lad could be anywhere. He should have stopped and told Porthos and Aramis and had them come along. Three heads were usually better than one, or so he thought. If he were d'Artagnan where would he seek solace? The youngster had rushed out of the garrison on foot, not even bothering to get his beloved horse Zad, so d'Artagnan couldn't have gotten very far.

He traveled a slight distance past the city limits and headed for the forest. Athos new the lad's love of nature came from the days d'Artagnan spent growing up and running a farm side by side with the child's pere. So Athos took an educated guess and headed for a small stream where he had once discovered d'Artagnan communing with the woodland creatures that inhabited the forest. He felt it brought the young Gascon some measure of comfort, figuring d'Artagnan missed his parents.

As Athos and Roger quietly approached the running stream he dismounted and secured Roger's reins to a low hanging tree limb. Walking softly on the grass Athos spotted his missing runaway as the boy sat at the edge of the water, rocking back and forth in abject misery. Whatever had transpired between their youngest and Treville had to have been catastrophic to result in the type of reaction he was presently witness too.

Hanging back Athos heard d'Artagnan talking out loud thinking he was all alone in the woods, save for the animals that roamed about, knowing whatever secrets the boy divulged were kept safe by these creatures. Pulling his hat down low Athos folded his arms and leaned against the rough bark of a tree and listened, becoming shocked to his core at the child's words.

"What am I going to do?" d'Artagnan cried out, tears falling from his eyes. "I can't stay now!" he sniffed, wiping his red rimmed eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. "I wouldn't be able to go back home either! How could I ever face _her_ again?" he hung his head down and weeped all the more. "My friends," d'Artagnan hiccuped, "what will they think of me once they find out that I'm the son of that bastard Richelieu?"

Knocking the back of his head hard several times against the solid tree where he rested, Athos squeezed his eyes tightly closed. So that explained away the cardinal's strange interest toward the boy. Somehow Richelieu must have discovered that d'Artagnan was from his loins. Wondering how long the cardinal had that knowledge, Athos' lips tightened together. His thoughts were muddled as he tried to figure out if Richelieu knew beforehand when he sent his Red Guards disguised as bandits out after them. Somehow he didn't feel it was so. The cardinal wouldn't have wanted to risk the life of his son, especially not after knowing Richelieu had actually proposed for the boy to think about joining his own regiment of Red Guards.

Now that he was armed with one of the cardinal's darkest secrets, Athos prayed that d'Artagnan was the _only_ son Richelieu could lay claim too. The thought of tiny children running around Paris with the blood of the cardinal running through their veins made Athos shudder with revulsion. Pushing all that aside for the moment, it was the boy that needed him now as Treville's words to him came back. Now he understood what his captain meant. The lad was beside himself and Athos feared what d'Artagnan would eventually do.

Standing up, d'Artanan's shoulders heaved as another sob burst forth. Covering his face with both hands he buried it in them. Then hearing sounds of footsteps crunching on twigs and other dead branches that covered the ground, d'Artagnan whirled around wielding his main gauche as he readied himself for an attack. Seeing Athos standing in front of him with both hands held out to his sides, d'Artagnan shook his head back and forth as he backed away from him.

"I too would be greatly distressed if I found out Cardinal Richelieu was my pere," Athos' left brow rose and his face held sardonic amusement. He thought it best to make light of the situation, hoping that d'Artagnan understood that this was nothing to feel shamed over. Waiting to see what the lad would do now that he had made his presence known, Athos noted d'Artagnan appeared ready to bolt and go God knows where and do God knows what. In the whelp's present state of mind Athos wouldn't trust the pup out of his sight. He feared d'Artagnan would even do harm to himself, so sick with grief the lad was.

"You come by that information from the captain or from sneaking up on me?" d'Artagnan snapped.

He knew it wouldn't be easy as Athos stared at the boy from underneath the brim of his hat. Appearing contrite, Athos made his excuses. "I didn't want to disturb you and unfortunately you were quite vocal."

"If you were the _gentleman_ that you claim," d'Artagnan sneered, "you would have left me alone and not eavesdropped."

Rubbing the back of his neck, Athos knew the boy was correct. He had not played fair, then again if he had not then he would be none the wiser of the turmoil engulfing their young one.

"I'm leaving Paris," d'Artagnan blurted out, turning his head away from the stunned expression covering Athos' face.

"Why?' Athos tilted his head, studying the Gascon who seemed determined to ruin his chances at becoming a Musketeer.

"I'm not fit to wear the uniform," d'Artagnan spat, still without looking at his friend.

"Nonsense!" Athos fired back, highly irritated now with the child. "So what? Richelieu's blood flows through your veins as does that of your mother's," he smirked. "I'd wager your mother's blood is _stronger_ than the cardinal's," he quipped wryly, "and _purer_ ," he added as an afterthought.

"Tis no time for jests, Athos," d'Artagnan was hurt that his almost brother could make light of this.

"I'm not," Athos frowned, "just stating the truth." He took a few tentative steps forward and observed d'Artagnan backing away from him like a nervous colt. It hurt that the boy seemed afraid of him now. "Do not make such a decision in your present frame of mind."

"You all will soon forget I ever existed," d'Artagnan whispered, hanging his head down so low that his long hair obscured the rest of his face from view.

"Not likely," Athos snorted, rolling his eyes. "You are one of a kind and hardly _forgettable_ ," crossing his arms, Athos glowered at the younger man. "What will you do? And for that matter where would you go?"

"There's always work available for one who knows how to farm the land," d'Artagnan remarked sadly.

"What of your parents?" Athos' voice rose. "Care you not of their reaction upon hearing you've turned your back on your dream?"

Laughing bitterly, d'Artagnan waved his hand carelessly at Athos, as if the man had just told him the funniest joke imaginable. "My maman should have talked to me long ago about the circumstances of my birth and not let me live a lie," his lips began to tremble. "Now I have to live with the fact that Cardinal Richelieu sired me."

Running his hand across his forehead Athos didn't have words that were adequate to ease the boy's hurt. Holding out his hand Athos cautiously drew closer to d'Artagnan's side. "Believe in this if you believe in anything at all," he planted himself directly in front of the lad, his hand still outstretched. "The future is yours if you're brave enough to face it," Athos' blue eyes glinted like steel. "You've a rare talent I have never seen before in one so young. Tis a shame to see it go to waste."

Looking down upon the hand that reached out to him in brotherhood, d'Artagnan studied it briefly wondering if he could put his faith in Athos' words. Agitated, he ran a hand through his hair, not knowing how to feel anymore. All d'Artagnan knew was that his life had taken a decided turn for the worse as far as he was concerned. How would he be expected to react when confronted with the cardinal again? Should d'Artagnan simply inform Richelieu that he knew the man had spawned him or just pretend he had no inkling of their true relationship? Which was completely true until only a few hours ago. "What of Porthos and Aramis?"

Puzzled, his brows knitted together, Athos stared back at the boy with a question in his eyes. "What of them?" he shrugged.

"How will they treat me once they know?" d'Artagnan kicked out at a rock near his foot, afraid to look into Athos' eyes.

"Porthis will no doubt want to slap some sense into your silly head," Athos drawled. "While Aramis more than likely will drag your sorry young ass to Madame Angel's to drown your sorrows in wine and women," he held up a finger, "and not necessarily in that order," he snickered. Noting his words had the desired effect, seeing a small smile grace the pup's features, Athos finally began to relax as d'Artagnan took his proffered hand. Then with a light slap to the boy's back he grinned. "Come," Athos put his arm across the lad's shoulders. "We'll share Roger," taking notice of the youngster's lean frame he chuckled. "You're nothing but skin and bones so I doubt Roger will be bothered by the extra weight."

Once seated behind Athos, d'Artagnan snorted. "Ha ha! Sooooo not funny."

"The truth rarely is, d'Artagnan," Athos offered, thinking about how things were about to change at the garrison for them all... and for Richelieu too.

 


	10. Chapter 10

_Same day, late afternoon - Aramis' apartment_

Eyeing the boy closely Aramis frowned. Whispering to Porthos he said, "I see no resemblance. Do you?"

"Ifin' Athos hadn't told us I'd of thought this was a bad jest on his part," Porthos commented gruffly. "But our whelp doesn't even look like the cardinal... thank God!"

D'Artagnan and Athos had arrived back to the garrison nearly an hour or so ago. After dragging the boy back to Treville so that their captain could make sure the youngster was all right, Athos took d'Artagnan back to Aramis' place so that the lad could explain his behavior. For he found out from the captain that Porthos and Aramis had come to him very worried on where Athos and the pup had gone too.

"Being the cardinal's son doesn't define the man you are today," Aramis pointed out to their youngest, noting d'Artagnan's sullen expression.

"Eh, whelp," Porthos sat down beside d'Artagnan and tried to peer into the boy's eyes which was nye unto impossible as the lad kept ducking and turning his head away from him. "Ya have ta know by now that we've got your back no matter whose son ya are." No response came fourth not that Porthos was surprised at the lack of reaction from the kid, considering that d'Artagnan just had the rug pulled out from under him.

Clearing his throat, Athos walked over to d'Artagnan and handed the lad a glass of wine. "What Porthos is endeavoring to say is that we love you as our brother regardless of your parentage."

Finally making eye contact, d'Artagnan looked around the room and indeed saw nothing but concern and love for him reflected in the three older men's faces. Holding out his hand d'Artagnan took the proffered wine and gladly took a generous sip. "My thanks that you bear me no ill feelings."

"Merde!" Aramis exclaimed, shooting out of his chair so fast that it took the others off guard for a moment. "Why on earth would we?" he huffed and knelt down beside the child's chair. Placing a hand on d'Artagnan's knee Aramis made sure he had the pup's attention. "You are your own person," he gently shook the boy's leg until d'Artagnan locked eyes with him. "Show Cardinal Richelieu the brave, young upstart you are now and he'll shortly come to realize like the rest of us," Aramis winked at d'Artagnan, "that with a few years under your belt, the _great_ man you are destined to become."

"Mis," d'Artagnan whispered, tears gathered in his eyes and his shoulders shook. Words escaped him as his emotions once again threatened to overwhelm him. Feeling himself enfolded in a threefold embrace from his brothers, d'Artagnan let his tears flow freely.

+++

Later the inseparables stood gazing down on the sleeping boy. Earlier, having worn himself completely out, d'Artagnan leaned against Porthos until his head lolled to the side coming to rest on the larger man's shoulder as sleep finally claimed him. So Porthos gently picked up the lad and walked into Aramis' spare bedroom to place d'Artagnan under the covers.

"He looks so young and innocent," Athos observed, wishing Captain Treville had let sleeping dogs lie.

"That's because he _is_ young, mon ami," Aramis countered with a growing smirk.

"Ta think he's that bastard's whelp," Porthos voice rumbled low, not wanting to disturb the child. "I can't blame the kid for his actions."

"None of us are,' Athos replied softly. "I just feel that somehow Pandora's box has just sprung open and none of us know, least of all d'Artagnan, what the future holds."

"Are we on the duty roster tomorrow after Aramis and I break in that new batch of wanna be Musketeers?" Porthos leaned down to put d'Artagnan's blanket back in place as it was ready to fall on the floor from the youngster's restless movements.

"Tomorrow afternoon we're all to attend the king as he greets his visiting guests," he glanced at his friends. "Richelieu is sure to be there as well."

"We'll make sure d'Artagnan doesn't do anything foolish," Aramis offered.

"I wouldn't mind if the pup wanted ta spit in the cardinal's face," Porthos grinned, earning a dark scowl from Athos and twinkling amusement dancing in the marksman's dark eyes.

"Perhaps I should worry more about _you_ than the boy," Athos mused, shaking his head in fond exasperation. With one last look at d'Artagnan, Athos signaled for them all to leave.

++++

_Next day, mid afternoon - Royal Throne room_

Standing at attention, d'Artagnan watched Cardinal Richelieu with avid interest now that he knew of their relationship. Even though His Eminence had been interacting with King Louis' guests, from time to time d'Artagnan caught the cardinal looking his way. The word - _papa_ would never escape his lips when he faced Richelieu, just as he was positive the cardinal would never outwardly refer to d'Artagnan as his - _son_.

When their duty was finally over the inseparables and d'Artagnan filed out to leave the palace, but the cardinal called out d'Artagnan's name halting the younger man's footsteps. The inseparables didn't know what to do as they looked at each other. Even Treville was hesitant to leave the boy behind. But upon noting Richelieu waving his hand at all of them in a firm dismissal, Athos stared hard after their young one. Worry grew ever stronger at the thought of leaving the two of them alone together.

For d'Artagnan's part he looked helplessly back at Athos for support but knew his friend couldn't disobey the cardinal's silent command. Watching his brothers and Treville disappear through the doors, d'Artagnan felt suddenly bereft of their companionship.

"D'Artagnan," Richelieu spoke carefully. It didn't escape his notice that the boy was extremely uncomfortable in his presence. More so than before. Which made him wonder why that was.

"Your Eminence," d'Artagnan bowed. "What can I do for you?"

"Have you changed your mind?"

"In regards to what, My Lord?"

"My earlier offer to you," Richelieu's tone was very dry. He realized the youngster knew quite well what he talked of.

"Oh that," d'Artagnan snorted carelessly, secretly pleased as the cardinal's eyes opened wide in surprise. "My answer remains the same as before." He finally came to a decision after the others had left. It was time to make his stand and follow Aramis' advice. This is who he was... d'Artagnan of Lupiac in Gascony. Son of Alexandre d'Artagnan and proud of it! 

"Pity," Richelueu's eyes narrowed while they studied d'Artagnan. There was a certain way the lad watched him that slightly unnerved him. As if the boy was aware of something he shouldn't have any knowledge of. The only thing that came to mind was the _one truth_ that could ruin Richelieu's career. He found his voice once more as he started to speak. "D'Artagnan..."

"If that is all, Your Eminence," d'Artagnan dared to interrupt as he found the nerve to stare boldly into Richelieu's stunned eyes, "I have Musketeer duties to attend too," he announced abruptly. Not caring if the cardinal liked his tone or not.

Finding his voice, Richelieu's was clearly strained. "You have my permission to leave me." The obvious conclusion he instantly came too made him sick to his stomach... d'Artagnan _knew_. The boy somehow found out Richelieu's carefully guarded secret. When the lad gazed into his eyes just now it was all there written clearly for him to see.

The child detested him, of that there was no doubt. Perhaps the youngster even thought that Richelieu had ordered his own guards to kill d'Artagnan. It was on that last Musketeer mission where all hell had broken loose, and the lad had been wounded. Which would explain away the boys growing animosity towards him.

Now where did Richelieu stand in all of this? Would d'Artagnan divulge to the king of his past transgression or would the boy keep it to himself. And if the lad was aware of his indiscretion did that also mean that Treville and the inseparables knew the truth of it as well? Foreseeing many a sleepless night in his future Richelieu straightened his slumped shoulders and, with a snap of his fingers, had the Red Guards follow behind him out of the throne room.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See note at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, still mid afternoon right after Richelieu realized d'Artagnan knew his secret_

_Palais-Cardinal_

Staring at the four walls of his own rooms, Richelieu slumped back in his chair closing his eyes. As he rubbed his forehead his thoughts were scattered. He didn't know how to approach the situation he now found himself in. A circumstance he had never expected nor ever would have wanted. Opening his eyes he surveyed everything around him. Items, mostly religious relics some not, he had collected or had been given throughout his long years of service to the crown. To think that they could all be taken away from him in a puff of smoke if d'Artagnan decided to light that particular fire. Then, sitting up straighter, it hit him. Perhaps somebody else had led his son to understand that d'Artagnan was Richelieu's offspring. Therefore he had another enemy waiting for him in the wings. One he did not count upon. It was truly a mess and he had no idea how to straighten the situation out.

++++

_Athos' apartment_

Captain Treville had given the inseparables and d'Artagnan some free time to do as they pleased after having had palace duty earlier and so d'Artagnan found himself browsing through Athos' extensive collection of reading material. Some of the books were quite old that he could tell by looking at the jacket covers... well worn which meant well read. "For a man of few words, Athos," d'Artagnan snorted, "you have a lot of books."

"A room without books is like a body without a soul, mon ami," Athos chuckled as he plucked the volume out of the boy's hands.

Huffing, putting his hands on his hips, d'Artagnan pouted. "How do yo know I wasn't going to read that?"

Tapping the book lightly on the lad's head, Athos laughed and placed it where it belonged. "I haven't seen you sit still long enough to read a book."

"I love to read," d'Artagnan followed Athos back over to the book shelf, ready to remove the novel again. But Athos' hand on top of his own prevented him from doing just that.

"I'll let you borrow it later," Athos pushed the youngster down into a chair. "For now I want to know what happened back at the palace between you and Richelieu."

"I stood my ground and told him I didn't want to become a Red Guard," d'Artagnan looked away from the inquisitive, blue eyed gaze concentrated on him.

"He asked that of you again, did he?" Getting back up, Athos retrieved two glasses and filled them halfway. Giving one to the boy, Athos ended up laughing at the face d'Artagnan made.

"A bit early in the day for this isn't it?" d'Artagnan put his glass down and shoved it toward the center of the small table where they sat.

Pushing it back toward the pup, Athos sat back down. "Notice it is not a full glass," his eyes were kind as they settled on the lad. "You need a little pick me up."

"Then what's your excuse for this _pick me up_?" d'Artagnan countered with a smirk.

"One should never drink alone," Athos' eyes sparkled as a small huff of laughter escaped d’Artagnan.

"I'm not in the mood," d'Artagnan noticed that Athos did not tough his glass. "But don't let me stop you."

"Non," Athos shook his head. "I never wanted it in the first place."

Arching an eyebrow, d’Artagnan cocked his head to the side. “Sure of that are you?”

“Insolent pup,” but Athos retorted with a smile on his face for his protégé.

“Anyway, my attitude toward him was borderline arrogant this time,” d’Artagnan pushed his hand through his hair while watching Athos’ disturbed face. “I believe the cardinal may now realize that I know I’m his son.”

“Merde!” Athos swore quietly. “Was that the wisest course of action for you to take?"

“Perhaps not,” d’Artagnan grinned. “But I wanted him to know that I won’t be persuaded to his way of thinking just because I’ve discovered he sired me.” Standing up he began to pace the floor. “And that’s another thing,” he suddenly stopped and turned around to glance over at Athos who was watching him shrewdly. “I’m going to have to write maman informing her of all that I discovered,” d'Artagnan abruptly sat back down again. It was fortunate for him that Athos was keeping track of d'Artagnan's direction for the older man somehow maneuvered a chair into position for him otherwise d'Artagnan would have fallen on his ass.

"When you were very young did you ever catch snatches of conversations between your parents on things that perhaps at the time didn't make any sense?" Athos observed a wealth of emotions cross that very young face

"Non," d'Artagnan hung his head down suddenly finding his boots of great interest. "But there were times when papa and I worked the fields together that I'd sometimes see a lingering sadness in his eyes whenever he looked my way," he shrugged and glanced up into Athos' understanding gaze. "I thought it was because I was his only child since maman was never blessed with more children."

"Never doubt you were a good son to them, d'Artagnan," Athos locked a steady gaze on the pup until the boy looked away from him.

"You don't know that," d'Artagnan retorted softly.

Athos placed a companionable hand on the lad's shoulder. "I know the man you are today."

"I was considered a young hellion back then," d'Artagnan smiled in memory. "Papa was forever pulling me out of mischief."

A wide smirk graced Athos' normally unexpressive face at the child's response. "Still are," he chuckled, cupping the boy's neck. "So no change then."

Smiling sadly, d'Artagnan finally stood up. "Papa had to have known," he held out his hand to Athos. As his mentor grasped it firmly in his own, d'Artagnan's eyes misted over. "Maman knew I was coming here. So why in heaven's name didn't either one of them prepare me for this?"

"To spare you the pain you are now experiencing," Athos' grip tightened further on the younger man's hand. "How could they have ever tried to explain such a subject to you?" Running a hand over the youngster's hair he sighed. "Would you have even believed them? I doubt it," Athos grabbed the boy's chin and shook it gently. "I can't speak for your parents but I know one thing, they did it to protect you."

Violently pulling his hand from Athos and jerking his head away from his mentor's gentle touch on his head, d'Artagnan shouted at him. "Richelieu is _not_ my papa! Alexandre d'Artagnan is!"

"Good," Athos grinned, chucking d'Artagnan underneath the chin. "Remember that every single time you are in His Eminence' presence." Laughing into the pup's surprised eyes, Athos tapped him on the nose. "It may prevent you from personally attacking the cardinal one of these days."

"You know me so well," d'Artagnan slapped Athos on the back. "Now, how about lending me that book I was looking at?"

++++

_Outside the palace_

After having finished his audience with King Louis, Treville was heading for the garrison courtyard when he had the misfortune to run into Cardinal Richelieu.

Both men stopped within feet of each other. It appeared to be a stalemate as to who would speak first. But Captain Treville, ever the gentleman, did the honors.

"Good afternoon, Cardinal," Treville bit out.

"Is it?" Richelieu remarked rather sourly. "So far I have seen nothing good about it."

"You've certainly got out of the wrong side of the bed this morning," Treville mused, "or _someone else's bed_." It wasn't common knowledge, but Treville knew the cardinal had past lovers despite being a man of the cloth. Intently he studied Richelieu. Knowing what he now knew, he held his tongue. Though he wanted to give the cardinal an earful it would not help d'Artagnan in the long run. Still, Treville would bide his time and keep both eyes firmly on His Eminence whenever he was around d'Artagnan.

Eyes narrowing suspiciously on the captain, it flitted through his mind that Treville had the look of a man who knew things others did not. Worry niggled at the back of his mind for all of a minute. "I have no time to dally. The king's expecting me."

"King Louis is _expecting_ his new wardrobe to be delivered and its late," Treville grinned. "Our monarch is in somewhat of a snit."

Knowing the king's mercurial moods, Richelieu frowned figuring his presence would not be a welcome one were His Majesty to see him right now instead of his tailor. "Very well," he snapped. "I shall rearrange my schedule with King Louis and call upon him another time." With a curt nod, Richelieu departed.

"I wouldn't worry if I were you that the king will notice your absence!" Treville shouted at the cardinal's retreating figure.

"Of that I have no doubt," Richelieu muttered under his breath as he headed back to his office, still pondering upon Treville and that strange _look_ in the man's eyes.

++++

_Garrison courtyard_

"Whelp! What the hell do ya call that?" With hands on his hips, Porthos stared down at the hardened dirt ground where d'Artagnan was currently sprawled.

"I not sure either," d'Artagnan regained his feet slowly, feeling aches in places he didn't know he had.

"You're not concentratin' that's what the problem is," Porthos watched as the pup brushed debris from his leathers. "And that's somethin' ya can't afford in our business."

"Apologies," d'Artagnan said sincerely. 'It won't happen again."

"Ya thinkin' on the cardinal?"

"Can't help not too, Porthos," d'Artagnan felt frustration build up inside him. After his talk with Athos he thought he was fine. But apparently not. How could he not think about Richelieu? "Let's try that again," d'Artagnan eyed the bigger Musketeer slyly. "I'll guarantee you won't be able to make that throw a second time."

"Wanna bet?" Porthos winked over at Aramis who was their audience of one.

Glancing over at Aramis, who was doing his best not to snicker, d'Artagnan noticed the sharpshooter nod his head at him. "All right I'll take that bet," d'Artagnan grinned. "First to land on his ass buys dinner."

Rubbing his hands together, Porthos thought he'd have this wrapped up in a few seconds but when he lunged at the whelp, d'Artagnan fell to the ground swinging out with his one leg out so rapidly that Porthos didn't have time to dodge it. Finding himself eating dirt wasn't something that Porthos had taken into consideration when he made his bet. He heard loud laughter off in the distance and when he lifted his head up, Porthos zeroed in on the sound. "Aramis, ain't no time ta be laughin'!" he growled.

"I tend to disagree with you there, mon frere," Aramis flung his arm carelessly across d'Artagnan's shoulder. "I've seen the boy pull that stunt before. Knew you'd be on the ground in under a minute."

"Looks like you'll be buying me dinner tonight, Porthos," d'Artagnan's youthful laughter was contageous. Even Porthos couldn't stay mad for very long as he joined in.

"Aye, whelp," Porthos swung the boy up in the air and put him back down, "ya bested me right good."

"What are you doing with our youngest?" Athos wondered what he had missed. As Aramis quickly filled him in, he shook his head. "Porthos, you keep this up and your pockets will be empty quite soon."

"Ain't countin' on that happenin' again," Porthos folded his arms. "I learn from my mistakes."

"I for one am famished," d'Artagnan announced. "Can't wait to eat," he glanced sideways at Porthos.

"Ya don't have ta keep rubbin' it in, whelp," Porthos reached out to swat at the lad's head.

Jumping back, d'Artagnan nearly tripped over Aramis who deftly caught him. "Pardon," d'Artagnan offered.

"Gentlemen," Athos got everyone's attention, "let us finish the rest of our duties in a timely fashion so that we may partake of dinner sooner rather than later."

"Excellent idea," Aramis chimed in.

As the inseparables and d'Artagnan dispersed, a figure hidden from view watched with avid interest. She had heard of the cardinal's offer to the boy and d'Artagnan's refusal in joining the Red Guards. Knowing there was another story brewing here, Milady would find out if only to satisfy her own natural curiosity. Perhaps it would lead to Richelieu's strange behavior when she was last in His Emience' presence. And if her new knowledge was damaging to the cardinal's reputation, all the better for Milady to reap the rewards.

 

++++

 

 _Note:_ Quote: _"A room without books is like a body without a soul"_ came from Gilbert K. Chesterton


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to go in this direction but something someone said on their feedback to me, and it could have been Issa but I can't remember for sure, about not feeling the cardinal would want to kill his own son, had me thinking on this. So now I am headed in another direction. And so much for fatherhood now.  
> Another idea I'm stealing, you all should recognize, came from season 2's The Return.
> 
> ++++

_Next day, early morning - Palais-Cardinal_

Stepping out from inside a small room within Richelieu's office, Milady silently moved toward where the cardinal now sat behind his mahogany desk. He appeared to be reading a letter that wasn't giving him much satisfaction, if the frown he currently wore was anything to judge by. "A _love letter_ perhaps," she smacked her lips together, the sound echoed in the deafening silence of the office.

Startled, Richelieu nearly dropped Francoise' letter he had decided to read again. "I never summoned you here!" he snapped, glaring up at her, his eyes blazing while he hastily shoved the missive inside his desk.

"I summoned myself," her green eyes shifted to the desk again, noting to herself where Richelieu hid his letter. "I've been slowly gathering information on the boy," Milady stared into the cardinal's unforgiving eyes. She always knew His Eminence never liked uninvited guests, but when did Milady ever follow protocol?

"What boy?" he huffed, refraining from rolling his eyes as he always considered that childish and unbecoming.

"Don't play coy with me, Your Eminence," Milady laughed into his face.

"I've no idea what the deuce you are going on about!" Richelieu slammed his hand down so hard on his desk that he noticed, with malice, it had made Milady jump losing her composure slightly. "Nor do I care!"

"Clearly this _d'Artagnan_ is of great interest to you," Milady all but purred, smiling though it didn't reach her eyes, "therefore he's of great interest to me as well."

"Y _ou_ are my creature and shall do as I command!" his eyes nearly bulged out of his head as he shot up from his chair in abject fury. "D'Artagnan is of no consequence!" he yelled, turning red in the face. When he would think upon this later, Richelieu knew his actions made a liar out of him.

Backing down from Richelieu's rage, Milady couldn't meet his eyes for a moment or two. The cardinal's temper was usually not turned on her. She was his top agent and given the toughest assignments because he trusted her. Being well rewarded for her efforts, Richelieu was always most generous to her. What Milady had accomplished here was to see his reaction when she brought up the subject of the youth. At first Milady toyed around with the idea of blackmailing His Eminence but then had thought better upon it. Remembering something of a similar nature that had happened to Richelieu's last operative, that dared tried the same thing, made Milady change her mind. The man's body had been discovered bloated, floating in the river Seine.

" _GET OUT!_ " Richelieu whirled around turning his back on her as he marched over to a window. He waited until the door to his office quietly closed behind Milady before he slumped back down into his chair. Before her arrival, Richelieu had been considering his alternatives. From d'Artagnan's reaction he realized that the boy would never come to care for him. Getting the lad into the Red Guards would never happen either as that too died a quick death at the youngster's words. Not believing he could be hurt by anyone, this did cut him to the quick.

If Treville actually knew the truth, and Richelieu felt that somehow the captain had stumbled onto his secret, it mattered not if the proof of Richelieu's indiscretion were not alive to be used against him. If the child looked upon Richelieu as the enemy then he was forced to feel the same towards his only son. And never be it said that Richelieu didn't know how to get rid of his enemies.

++++

_Several hours later -_ _Barren field, an hour and a half out of Paris_

"Any of you wonder what we're doing this for?" Vernon grunted as he dug a deep hole into the ground while his fellow guards did the same.

"We don't question the cardinal's orders," Bruno grumbled while covering the keg of gunpowder he was burying.

"Guess it will all make sense once Andre and Maurice arrive with their _prize_ in tow," Emilien said, standing up and brushing the dirt from his uniform.

"Hopefully we'll have finished all of this by then," Bruno complained, earning some muffled laughter from his companions.

++++

_Musketeer Garrison_

Finishing up his chores in the stable, d'Artagnan was making his way to the courtyard for his lessons with Aramis. His musket work of late had been shoddy at best. It wouldn't do if ever his brothers were in trouble and he needed to make a clean shot. Memories of the previous night's dinner danced in his head as Porthos shelled out quite a spread for d'Artagan. Winning bets like that were worth a few bruises when it was compensated by a good meal followed with good wine, the latter had been generously provided by Athos who graciously spared some coins to buy it.

As he headed to his appointment, d'Artagnan heard his name being called out. When he turned around there was no one about that appeared to be looking for him. So he thought he had heard wrong and continued on his way until that same voice repeated his name again. This time he saw a man signaling to him who was leaning against the side of the canteen.

When d'Artagnan walked towards him he didn't recognize the stranger at all now that he had gotten a closer look. Still, d'Artagnan waited to see why he was hailed. "May I be of some help?" The sinister smile that crossed the other man's face sent chills up and down d'Artagnan's spine. Feeling that perhaps he should walk away right now, d'Artagnan moved a minute too late. A blow to the back of his head was the last thing that registered before his world went dark.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well for all the Musketeer fans out there I just visited Luke's twitter acct. I don't have one of my own but have the website for it. He officially said this, which should put rumors to rest.  
> 'Under 2 weeks until Musketeers closes its doors. It's been a journey to say the least.'  
> Guess season 3 will be the finale, folks, sad to say. Just wanted to share that with you.  
> Now onto the story...
> 
> ++++

_Same day – Garrison courtyard_

“Whelp stand ya up?” Porthos had been watching Aramis patiently waiting for his charge to appear for the past fifteen minutes. He had been pacing back and forth then sitting on the bench only to bounce up again craning his neck looking for the whelp. Even started questioning any fellow brother that passed his way on the lad's whereabouts. Porthos could tell frustration was brewing as Aramis threw his hat on the dusty ground. Now Aramis cherishes that hat of his so for the man to do that told Porthos more than mere words could.

“It’s not like d’Artagnan to be late,” Aramis huffed. “Usually he makes the rest of us look bad by being early for all his practices.”

Brows drawn together in concern, a frown marred Porthos’ dark features. “Ya gonna hang around all day waitin' or da ya wanna go look for ‘im?”

Picking his hat up, hitting it a few times on his leg to remove the dirt, Aramis shoved it back on his head. He took one long last look around the yard again before giving up. “If the lad was coming he’d have been here long ago.” With a curt nod at Porthos, Aramis went along with his brother.

++++

_Canteen_

“Eh, boys,” Serge was rushing to and fro from his kitchen and was balancing several steaming plates of food in his hands, one of which Porthos generously relieved him of. Eyeing the large Musketeer Serge grumbled, “Mind ya that’s for Pierre over yonder not for ya.”

“I ain’t gonna eat it,” Porthos growled, though the meatloaf was tempting his palate just from the smell alone.

Looking him up and down, Serge shrugged. “Ain’t too sure of that myself. Takes a lot to fill ya up.”

Amusement danced upon Aramis’ lips as he listened to the exchange. “Serge, have you seen d’Artagnan?”

“Now that ya mention it I thought the boy was in the infirmary,” Serge noticed the odd looks the two men exchanged with each other. “Saw the lad about a half hour ago being propped up between two men I didn’t recognize. I was in a hurry else I'd of gone over to see what happened. I just figured d’Artagnan was taken ill.”

Worry gnawing at his gut, Aramis glanced up at the infirmary knowing that would be their next destination. “Our thanks, mon ami.”

A scant few minutes later both men ran back out of the infirmary after having their suspicions confirmed by Doctor Devereaux that d’Artagnan had never been admitted.

“Approximately thirty minutes ago Serge said,” Aramis snapped. "That's how much of a head start they have over us. Merde!" he swore. “Let’s get Athos.”

++++

_Outside the garrison gates_

Athos and Aramis rode slowly behind Porthos while letting the bigger man do what he did best and that was tracking their quarry.

Not able to contain himself any longer Athos glared at the back of his friend up ahead. “Anything yet?”

“Yeah,” Porthos drawled, wondering how long Athos could hold out before questions burst forth. “Picked up their trail a few minutes ago,” he glanced back at his brothers. “Lucky for us a few of them citizens we talked to on our way out knew d’Artagnan by sight and recognized him right off.”

“Pointing us in the general direction they took,” Athos agreed, lips thinning into a tight line. “They’ve got a bit of a head start on us so let’s not tarry any further.”

"I thought Captain Treville was about ready to have heart failure when I told him what Serge said." Aramis remembered how their captain turned so pale that they were all afraid Treville was going to pass out on them. He wanted to go with them but couldn't at present. Treville had too many duties to attend to. But he had charged them with the task of finding d'artagnan at all costs. Being the last one out the door, Aramis glanced back at the captain who was staring into space and was taken aback at the murderous look in his eyes. Shuddering, Aramis was glad it hadn't been aimed at him.

++++

_Back to the empty field again, an hour and a half later_

“Bruno,” Andre barked, “take the kid!” Handing the still unconscious youth down into the other man’s arms, Andre jumped off his horse. When he caught site of Emilien he groaned. “Get the hell out of that blasted uniform before someone sees you!”

Emilien didn’t understand the urgency behind Andre’s complaint and said so. “Who cares? No one’s around for miles.”

“I care, you dolt! It only takes one person to see that uniform and recognize it for what it stands for.” Andre really had to wonder sometimes at the men Richelieu let into the Red Guards. The look of contempt he threw Emilien didn’t bode well for the man if he didn’t follow orders immediately.

“I have my other clothes in the saddle bag,” Emilien grumbled as he went to his horse. Pulling the items out, he made short work of changing into them.

Meanwhile Maurice helped Bruno carry the boy to the middle of the field, dumping him there like a sack of potatoes.

“What exactly were Richelieu’s orders?” Bruno scratched his head a bit perplexed as he waited for an explanation for all their digging.

“He wanted no evidence to be found,” Maurice stared at the young man lying so still on the ground. “Don’t know what the kid did to get on the bad side of the cardinal but that’s not my problem.”

“Whose idea was it to use that gunpowder we buried?” Bruno placed hands on his hips in a determined stance. He didn’t understand why they just hadn’t killed the youngster outright and thrown his body in the Seine. It’s not like they haven’t done that before.

“Andre wanted to have a bit of fun,” Maurice smiled maliciously. “Figured being way out here there’d be no witnesses about. We can't afford to be caught out.”

Emilien, now in plain clothes, walked over to both men having heard the last part of their conversation. “So when do we start?”

++++

“Porthos!” Athos growled, his patience had flown away long ago along with the hawk his eyes had been tracking overhead.

“Eh, hold ya horses!” Porthos shook his head. “Trackin’s hard enough without ya badgerin' me every ten minutes askin' if’n I’ve lost the trail.”

“You should know better than to aggravate a bear, Athos,” Aramis snickered but wiped his expression clean at Athos’ glower.

"The citizens we spoke with mentioned d'Artagnan appeared to be unconscious," Athos tightened his hold on Roger's reins so much so that his mount snorted against the pull. Reaching out Athos ran a gentle hand up and down Roger's mane. "Sorry, boy," he whispered. Regretting his frustration had been unintentionally taken out on his horse Athos bit out, "If indeed they knocked the boy senseless that means d'Artagnan couldn't leave us any signs on which direction they took."

"And so that's why we're not supposed to upset our gentle bear up ahead, mon frere." Aramis though couldn't blame Athos for his own worries grew the longer they were away from their youngest.

"Guys!" Porthos hollered out. "Tracks veer off to the left right here!"

Urging Roger forward, Athos pulled abreast of Porthos. "Lead the way."

++++

_Same field... same impossible situation_

Groggily waking up, d'Artagnan's head was killing him. Vision blurry he could just make out that he was surrounded by nothing but a barren landscape. No trees, bushes... no anything. There wasn't even any signs of wildlife around. Using his hands to push up from the hardened ground, d'Artagnan froze when a harsh voice rang out.

"Best stay where you are if you know what's good for you!" Andre shouted, followed by chuckles from his men.

Rolling over onto his side, d'Artagnan shielded his eyes against the sun's rays to see who belonged to that voice. "Who are you? What do you want of me?" his own voice sounded weak and shaky to his ears.

"As to who we are," Andre laughed, "that won't matter to you in just a little while. So don't worry your pretty head over it."

Shaking his head to clear it, d'Artagnan wasn't in any shape to question the man further. He had no need too as the answer came to land nearby d'Artagnan as a loud explosion off to his left rocked his world.

Flopping onto his stomach, d'Artagnan covered his head with both hands as he tried to protect it. Curling himself into a ball didn't help much as debris reigned down on him. Just as he recovered, d'Artagnan felt the earth shake again as another tremendous explosion ripped through the air.

His face and clothes now covered in dirt, d'Artagnan sceamed over the noise. "WHY! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME!"

Laughing, Andre relished the panic he heard in the youngster's voice. "Because I can!" Sharing looks of amusement with his men, Andre raised his musket and took aim. "Get up and run, boy!" Seeing no movement from his target, Andre fired his musket again causing another explosion behind the would be Musketeer.

++++

"Ya hear that?" Porthos frowned, pulling Roulette to a halt. Athos and Aramis mirrored his own actions as their horses became skittish from the noise.

"Cannon fire?" Aramis mused but noted Athos shaking his head in disagreement with his observation. "Oui, what was I thinking? Like there would be cannons out in the middle of nowhere."

"Somethin's makin' that racket and it ain't firecrackers," Porthos snapped. "We follow that sound and I'll bet we find our whelp."

"Let us follow our ears then, gentlemen. "Taking the lead, Athos and Roger galloped at top speed, his brothers close behind.

++++

_Same field and d'Artagnan's situation hasn't improved_

Getting up on two very unsteady legs, d'Artagnan swayed back and forth. He felt awful. The maniac playing fun and games with him meant business so he tried to comply to the man's wishes. Not knowing which direction to take, d'Artagnan feared no matter where his feet took him there was no escaping the consequences.

Stumbling, d'Artagnan tried to run for it; then another shot rang out and dirt kicked up as the earth exploded in front of him, throwing d'Artagnan up into the air and several feet away. Lying on his back, everything began to hurt. Close to tears and fed up into the bargain he screamed again. "WHY DON'T YOU END THIS NOW! INSTEAD OF PLAYING CAT & MOUSE WITH ME!"

"Ah, mon garcon," Andre chuckled, "This way is such fun!" No sooner had Andre uttered those words then he felt a musketball whizz way to close to his own face to strike Bruno who stood near his shoulder. As Bruno lay writhing on the ground in pain, Andre noticed the three men on horseback at the other end of the field. All held weapons aimed their way and all wore pauldrons of the king.

Coming upon this scene, Athos felt sick. He could see d'Artagnan was hurt and bleeding and all Athos wanted to do in that moment was to run to him and cradle the pup in his arms. But first he had vermin to get rid of. Feeling waves of anger coming off of Aramis and Porthos as well, Athos contemplated their next step. "I would advise you and your men to lay down your weapons and cease fire."

Trying to stick it out, Andre yelled, "Why don't you join the boy! The more the merrier as they say!"

"'E's sick in the 'ead." Porthos itched to ride right over there and end that good for nothing's life for hurting their petit frere the way he had.

"Athos," Aramis glanced at his brother, "it'll only take one shot."

"You have to make this count," Athos throat threatened to close up on him. "If you miss and that filth over there manages to get off another shot," he closed his eyes. "It just may be the one that kills d'Artagnan." It hadn't escaped his notice what the field looked like and Athos guessed at what had been done. The game they were playing with d'Artagnan's life was meant to wipe the youngster from existence.

"Just watch me," Aramis smiled slyly. Taking careful aim with his harquebus he fired. His aim was true as the ball found its way between Andre's laughing black eyes.

Seeing the commander lying dead at their feet, Andre's blank-eyed stare rallied the remaining soldiers to withdraw or suffer the same fate as their leader.

Watching the men all running away liked scared chickens, Porthos wasn't very pleased. "Ya just gonna let 'em get away?"

"Aramis got the one trying to kill d'Artagnan," Athos got down from Roger. "That's all that matters for now," he smirked. "Besides I recognized all of them."

"And?" Aramis raised a brow.

"Red Guards," Athos shared a knowing look with his friends and could tell that they understood the ramifications of what went down here. "Let's get the boy the hell out of here!"

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

_Same day… same time… same field, but the situation has vastly improved_

“Mon Dieu!” Athos slid to a halt when he raced to where d’Artagnan had blessedly passed out. Falling to his knees beside their young Gascon, Athos cradled the child in his arms and began to rock back and forth with him. Glancing up at his brother’s worried faces, Athos simply shook his head. “Look at the pup, just look at him!”

And that’s exactly what Porthos and Aramis did with the medic clucking his tongue at the cuts, bruises and dirt that adorned the boy from head to toe. Tapping Porthos on the arm, Aramis silently communicated to his friend he needed his medical bag. As the bigger man ran over to Belle, Aramis knelt down on the other side of Athos. "I need to tend to some of d’Artagnan’s injuries before the ride back to Paris.” Not getting a reply from the older man, Aramis took a good look at Athos' white face and shook his head at the despair he saw written on it. “Athos, d'Artagnan lives. Remember that,” Aramis whispered, ghosting a hand over their youngest's head and that’s when he felt the large goose egg on the back of it. “Merde!” he swore violently. “That’s how they got him here!”

Raising still shocked eyes towards the other man, Athos stared at him not completely comprehending what Aramis had said.

“Remember Serge telling Porthos and myself that d’Artagnan was being held up between two men making Serge think the lad was sick?”

“They knocked the boy out with a blow to the head,” Athos’ anger began to re-surface and if Andre had still been alive he wouldn’t have been for much longer. Fire burned hot and heavy within his soul for what d’Artagnan had just gone through. And he dreaded when the time came to be the one to inform the lad about who had been behind d’Artagnan’s execution. He wouldn't be able to wrap it up in pretty words for the boy because for all intent and purposes that’s what this was.

“There are so many cuts to deal with and I don't like treating them out in the middle of this damn field!" Aramis winced at the numerous cuts that were continuously weeping blood. He'd run out of bandages at this rate. "I was only going to treat the worst ones first not seeing the sense of letting our pup suffer anymore than needs be before taking our leave of this place.” Rubbing an ointment on the cuts helped slow the bleeding down so that he could bandage them properly. "But d'Artagnan has so many that need seen too right away that we may be here longer than we'd like." Putting his kit aside, Aramis stood up. "Let's move the lad over to where our horses are. At least we're not out in the open so much just in case there are anymore Red Guards ready to take pot shots at us." So helping Athos stand up with his precious burden, the two men went back to where their horses pranced about impatiently. “No more shade here than where we were but I feel safer,” Aramis muttered as he started taking out various herbs and bandages again that he needed from his bag, all the while his eyes never strayed far from the unconscious child.

After placing the boy on the ground Athos straightened up, wiping sweat from his brow. “How do I tell him that Richelieu,” he spat the cardinal's name out as if it left a bad taste in his mouth, “ordered this death sentence for him?”

“Not right away, mon frère,” Aramis shook his head. “I don’t believe d’Artagnan needs to know any of the deplorable facts yet and remember Richelieu is _not_ d'Artagan's true pere," Aramis shrugged. "Perhaps when the time comes to tell him, d'Artagnan might not be as surprised as you think."

“Treville will be out for blood as well as us,” Athos squeezed his eyes tightly shut as the image re-played in his head of d’Artagnan all alone in that field dodging the explosions all around him. If he could have, Athos would have traded places with the child in a heartbeat.

Groaning came from d’Artagnan’s lips just then as his eyelashes fluttered. No sooner had he opened his eyes then he moaned louder closing them immediately against the glare of the sun. It felt like there was a company of drummers beating a tattoo in his skull. Touching his head, d’Artagnan realized that Aramis was looking down at him with grave concern as the marksman grabbed at d’Artagnan’s hand to prevent him from doing that.

“Non, petit frère,” Aramis smiled. “Trust me when I say you don't want to be doing that.”

It was then d’Artagnan realized his head was resting in someone’s lap. Looking up, to his chagrin, it was Athos. The older man didn’t even appear to mind it either. If anything Athos looked quite haggard in appearance. “Am I dying then?”

Frowning, Athos couldn’t for the life of him think why the boy had asked him such a question. Then a hat swatted at his head and he realized Aramis was glaring at him. Surprise was written across Athos' features as he asked, "Isn't that my hat?"

“If you stared at me the way you’re now doing at our poor young one I’d think I was on my way to the pearly gates too,” Aramis snapped while trying to apply a salve on some of the deeper cuts d’Artagnan sported. "And oui," he retorted curtly, "your hat was on the ground."

Standing still, watching the scene before him, Porthos growled low for Athos’ ears only. “Ya sure them was Red Guards that run away like rats entering a sewer?”

“Positive,” Athos acknowledged with a firm nod of his head. “I’ve had dealings with them before.”

Cracking his knuckles loud enough that even d’Artagnan’s eyes widened at the sound, Porthos’ face was grimmer than it had ever been reflecting his anger at the scum who dared to hurt the whelp. “Want the kid to ride back with me?”

Glancing over at Athos who had yet to relinquish his hold on d’Artagnan, Aramis shook his head.

Porthos understood at once as he too observed the desperate way Athos clung to the boy, absentmindedly still stroking d’Artagnan’s filthy hair.

As he shakily sat up, d’Artagnan’s back was pressed firmly against Athos’ chest as his mentor wrapped an arm around d’Artagnan’s waist to keep him from tilting sideways which, unhappily, is what d’Artagnan felt like doing. His head was still spinning, and his ears were still ringing from the explosions that had been way too close for comfort. “What happened to that madman that was trying to blow me sky high?” Still propped up by Athos, d’Artagnan weakly tried to bat Aramis’ hands away as the marksman was checking a ragged looking gash on his arm that was encrusted with dirt. “Wanna go home,” he leaned back into Athos and closed his eyes.

“Aramis,” Athos whispered urgently when he saw d’Artagnan’s head loll to the side.

“Calm, Athos, the child’s been through much.” He leaned over to place a tender kiss to d’Artagnan’s temple. “If I had been through what he had I’d have passed out again too.” Rummaging through his medical bag, Aramis removed several more bandages. “But if I don’t clean this nasty wound out infection will set in and d’Artagnan could lose his arm.” Running a hand through his curls he realized that somewhere along the way he had misplaced his hat. “Damn!”

“Eh, Mis?” Porthos leaned down to look at his friend. He needed to do something more than just stand about.

“Could you find my hat,” Aramis huffed while gently trying to dig the dirt out from the boy’s arm.

Rolling his eyes, Porthos grunted something under his breath and stomped away. This wasn’t exactly the action he had been looking for. Damn the man and his precious hat!

“Why do you not invest in an extra hat,” Aramis arched his brow. “This way you’ll always have another.” Carding his fingers through d’Artagnan’s hair in a soothing motion his lips quirked upward. “Or you could go by our pup’s example and do without.”

“Blaspheme!” Aramis shot the older man a foul look and continued working on the lad’s arm. While he was doing this, Aramis suddenly felt a light gust of wind as something settled onto his head along with a hard tug to keep it there. Grinning up at the larger man, Aramis grinned. “My thanks.”

“Found it layin’ on the ground where ya was when ya took that shot.” Porthos diverted his attention then over to Athos who looked his way.

“Porthos,” Athos made sure Aramis had a good hold of the pup before getting to his feet, “as soon as Aramis finishes d’Artagnan rides with me.”

“No surprise there,” Porthos snorted to Aramis while both men watched their leader go over to Roger. “Ya nearly done there?”

“Oui,” Aramis’ grim look told its own story as he had discovered severe bruising to d’Artagnan’s back while the lad was unconscious. “The boy's going to be extremely sore for awhile. Perhaps Doctor Devereaux will have something to ease the lad's discomfort."

Seeing what Aramis meant, as Porthos watched his friend do up the boy’s shirt again, he winced as if he could feel the pain himself. “Aye, I can see that,” he remarked gruffly wishing he could take on d’Artagnan’s pain. Bending down he gently lifted the whelp into his thickly muscled arms. Up this close he got a good look at the mass of bruises and cuts that riddled the boy’s face, neck and upper chest. Glancing at Athos, who by now was in the saddle, Porthos’ eyes darkened with fury. “Shame Mis got that maniac. I’d show ‘im what hurt really feels like.”

Carefully Porthos picked d’Artagnan up as if he were the finest of china. When he approached Roger, Porthos hefted the whelp up to Athos. Once both were settled to his satisfaction he walked over to where Roulette impatiently waited.

Once Aramis did the same the inseparables turned their sights to Paris and home.

++++

_Musketeer Garrison_

Less than an hour later, for the Musketeers cut their journey back by a little over thirty minutes, found the men finally at the garrison. They knew taking it slowly for the boy’s sake was something they should have done, but since d’Artagnan was asleep for most of it figured they’d get home sooner this way and get their youngster seen to by the doctor all the faster.

Dismounting quickly, Aramis and Porthos reached out for the pup. Once more d’Artagnan was in Porthos’ arms as the Musketeer took the steps two at a time that lead to the infirmary and Doctor Devereaux’s most capable hands.

++++

_Captain Treville's office_

Rene had come and gone letting Treville know that the inseparables had returned with d'Artagnan looking the worse for wear. He was not in a good mood to say the least having had no idea where the boy had been taken or why, and it had taken a toll on his frayed nerves. Picking up his hat he slammed it onto his head and left the room.

As he stepped out onto the balcony, Treville just had time enough to catch sight of Porthos carrying d’Artagnan into the infirmary before they disappeared inside. His stomach dropped even further when Athos and Aramis glanced up at him, their set faces told their own story. “Gents, my office… _Now_!”

“I really am not looking forward to this conversation,” Aramis muttered following Athos to the captain’s office.

“Nor I,” Athos said quietly.


	15. Chapter 15

_Same day - Musketeer garrison, Captain Treville's office_

"Report," Treville barked out gruffly, knowing very well he wasn't going to enjoy any of it as he stared into the faces of his men.

"We found d'Artagnan not far out of Paris in a deserted field," Athos managed to get out, exchanging a brief glance with Aramis.

"He was being used as _target practice_ ," Aramis had just been bursting with the need to spit that part out.

" _Target_...," that was about the only thing Treville could utter. Images raced through his mind of what Aramis meant. He tried again to find his voice. "D'Artagnan was being shot upon?" When he noted both soldiers looking at their feet, his heart sank further. "There's more to it than that isn't there?" When Athos and Aramis slowly looked back up, Treville could see the answer in their eyes.

"The canailles behind this atrocity had buried kegs of gunpowder beneath the dirt and were shooting at them," Athos stopped talking when Treville instantly stood up, his chair toppling over onto the floor. Nonplussed, Athos twisted his head to glance at Aramis who was just as surprised at their captain's reaction.

"They had placed d'Artagnan dead center and the boy was surrounded by the explosives," Aramis ran a hand through his hatless head. "He didn't have any maneuverability," he huffed. "No matter which way d'Artagnan went it was a no win scenario."

"Mon Dieu!" Treville drew in a shaky breath. "Why? Why was the lad taken and treated in that manner?"

"After Aramis took care of the shooter the others involved ran away like the lowly rats they were," Athos' blue eyes darkened as he remembered his shock when he had recognized them all. Waiting for Treville to compose himself, Athos added, "There's more."

Hanging his head down, Treville muttered something under his breath. Lifting his head up, his gaze locked on his lieutenant's. "When is there not?" Waving his hand at Athos to continue, Treville readied himself for more news he knew would not be to his liking.

"I recognized all of them," Athos admitted. "The shooter was Andre and the men who escaped us were Maurice, Bruno, Vernon and Emilien... _Red Guards all_." Seeing Treville turn white was not a pleasant experience as Athos started forward afraid his captain was about to pass out.

Holding out a hand to stop him Treville shook his head, placed the palm of his hands on his desk to steady himself, and took in a deep breath.

"And yet... still more," Athos was nearly afraid to admit that to Treville even though he already knew what the implication meant when he told the captain the name of those five men. "They had to have been under the orders of Richlieu or they would have never dared lift a finger against the boy."

"Oui, oui," Treville nodded. "I just didn't think the cardinal would stoop that low."

"Why ever not?" Aramis shot back, surprised at the captain's remark.

"For all intents and purposes, d'Artagnan is Richelieu's son," Treville abruptly sat back down. "I would have at least thought that would have meant something to Armand." Rubbing a hand back and forth across his forehead, Treville wished he could restart this day over so none of this had happened in the first place. But that would be asking too much of a God that apparently saw some sort of ironic humor in this sad situation.

"I believe it's d'Artagnan's honest nature and Gascon stubborness that finally got to the cardinal," Aramis commented.

"Meaning that Richelieu realized that our pup detested him and his underhanded ways of getting things done. So now the cardinal doesn't trust d'Artagnan to not spread the word that Richelieu is guilty of committing adultery." Athos' hat was crushed in his hands and may never be the same again as his fingers needed something to do. Wishing that it had been his own hands that had had the satisfaction of strangling the life from Andre, instead of having Aramis put a musketball right between the Red Guard's eyes, Athos had to be satisfied that Andre was dead and would stay that way to not trouble any of them further.

"Getting rid of his enemies is nothing knew for Richelieu we all know that from past experience," Treville announced matter of factly. "And now d'Artagnan is considered in their number apparently."

"Sir, if I may," Aramis stepped forward, "I would like to go back to the infirmary to see if Doctor Devereaux could use my help," his eyes darted to Athos' grim face. "The lad was covered in numerous bruises, cuts and abrasions."

"Any of them serious?" Treville held his breath. That boy always used to get up to all sorts of mischief back on the farm. He remembered Alexandre telling him it was a wonder that d'Artagnan had never been severely injured from any of his outlandish stunts. And that didn't even count farm related injuries.

"Severe bruising to his back," Aramis placed his hat back on, adjusting it accordingly. "I know d'Artagnan's definitely dealing with a concussion." Seeing Treville wave a hand at him to continue, Aramis elaborated. "Our young one was already unconscious when we got to him and he roused himself for only a little time before succumbing to his injuries."

"Aramis advised me to not inform the boy of Richelieu's involvement just yet," he glared at his friend. "I on the other hand feel d'Artagnan should be armed with that knowledge immediately. We do not need the cardinal sniffing around the lad pretending to care that d'Artagnan had nearly been killed."

"For now, Athos, I agree with Aramis," Treville knew that wouldn't go over well with his lieutenant and by the ice in the man's direct gaze, Treville noted he was spot on in his assessment. It takes a good captain to know his men well and Treville knew the inseparables with all their quirks and foibles.

"At least let me find out what happened to the rest of those Red Guards that were involved," Athos asked indignantly. He felt no good could come of keeping this from their youngest.

"Do it tactfully, Athos," Treville warned. "If I know the cardinal, and I do, he'll have sent those men far away to some unknown place safely away from here."

"So that blame cannot be cast his way," Athos retorted wryly. "As you very well know I have ways of extracting that type of information."

Smiling for the first time since his men walked in, Treville was amused by Athos' willingness to do so for d'Artagnan's sake. "Hold that thought for the moment," he almost laughed at the petulant look that crossed his lieutenant's face. "First I will inform King Louis of what has befallen d'Artagnan."

"I disagree with Athos," Aramis broke in. "I doubt very much that the cardinal would put in an appearance in the infirmary to check on the pup. He'll probably send one of his servants with a fruit basket for the boy instead," he smirked, "with his condolences of course."

"And then I'll have Porthos toss it out for the pigs," Athos spat. "I wouldn't trust that the man wouldn't have had the fruit poisoned."

"Mon Dieu! Could this be any worse?" Not expecting an answer, Treville placed his forehead in his hands as he bent over his desk.

"I suggest you join me, Captain, while I go to the infirmary," Aramis urged gently, seeing how all of this had taken a toll on their leader.

Glancing at Athos' brooding look, Treville sighed and stood up. "Lead on."

++++

_Infirmary_

"What took ya so long?" Porthos was sitting beside d'Artagnan's bed, his hand gripping the lad's right arm tightly.

"Reporting to Treville," Athos responded with a slight jerk of his head to behind him so that Porthos realized he and Aramis hadn't come alone.

Starting to stand up at the sight of his captain, Porthos sat down when Treville motioned for him to do so. "Sir, the whelp's in right poor shape."

His eyes roamed all over the boy's abused body. Treville winced in sympathy for all that d'Artagnan had gone through. There wasn't a spot on the child's body that didn't have a cut or a bruise to mar it. What worried him most was the sight of the worst bruising Treville had ever seen covering the youth's entire back. As d'Artagnan was shifted onto his side it was there to see in all its glory. "Doctor, the boy's back?"

"Ah, oui," Devereaux's hand hovered over the remarkable discoloration. "It looks worse than it actually is. He must have had something bounce off his back quite hard to leave it looking like this but not hard enough to do any damage."

"Thank the Lord," Aramis crossed himself. He had worried about the lad suffering from either a spinal or kidney injury from the debris that fell onto him there.

"Porthos has filled me in on what transpired to cause d'Artagnan to be in the shape he's in now," Devereaux frowned. "I know I'm a healer by trade," he stabbed each and every one of the men in front of him with a hard look, "but I believe in the old adage... _an eye for an eye_."

Grinning, Athos gave the doctor a satisfied look. "Perhaps we could induct you temporarily as one of us so you could help us dole out the punishment," he cast Treville a sly look, "that is whenever we catch the canailles behind this." He was glad the captain heard the doctor's words. Athos wanted his commander to understand he wasn't alone in wanting his vengeance now.

Coughing, Treville cleared his throat, glaring at Athos. "You will be the first to know when the men behind this have been arrested."

Seeing d'Artagnan was now fully awake and talking quietly to Porthos, Athos wondered what their pup was saying.

Catching Athos' eye, Porthos laughed. "Our whelp wants us ta shut up. Said 'ead's killin' 'im."

The soldiers all looked at one another not quite sure what to do but in the end it was the captain, with a brief ruffling of d'Artagnan's hair, who left the others behind to surround the child with their love and brotherhood.


	16. Chapter 16

_Next day - infirmary_

"Feeling any better, d'Artagnan?" Aramis sat on the boy's bed, one hand in the lad's hair and one on d'Artagnan's chest. Then he gently grasped the pup's chin in his hand and turned d'Artagnan's face first to the left and then to the right as he examined the cuts and bruises that marred it.

"Do I pass inspection, Aramis?" d'Artagnan raised one eyebrow, studying the fierceness in his brother's gaze.

"Bruises have faded somewhat and the cuts don't look quite as bad as they did yesterday," Aramis withdrew his hand. "You never answered my question?"

"I only see one of you now," d'Artagnan grinned. "Better than seeing four of you like I had yesterday," he closed his eyes as d'Artagnan was still quite tired. "Head still aches something bad though." He felt the bed shift as Aramis' weight lifted from it.

"Doctor Devereaux gave me this to give you just in case," Aramis held a vial containing a pain draught in his hand. "Now stop making faces," he huffed, rolling his eyes. "It isn't that bad."

"Then _you_ drink it," d'Artagnan snapped. "Foul tasting stuff's nearly as bad as that crap you force down our throats when any of us aren't well."

Uncorking the vial, Aramis poured it's contents into a cup. When he sniffed at it, his head reared back at the powerful odor. Hearing d'Artagnan's snort, Aramis looked down upon the youngster.

"Told you," d'Artagnan snickered.

"I admit this is somewhat stronger than the ones I prepare," then Aramis frowned at the innocent looking vial. "Perhaps I shall dilute it just a little."

Watching the marksman walk away, d'Artagnan felt a hand touch his head. When he glanced upward he encountered Athos' serious expression. "I'm fine," d'Artagnan uttered quickly to put the older man at ease.

"Which usually means you are not," Athos' wry grin held nothing but warmth for the boy. Seeing d'Artagnan's eyes land on his bruised and bloodied knuckles, he grimaced and tried to hide them behind his back but the lad was quicker as d'Artagnan grabbed at them while stuggling to sit up in bed.

Tugging at Athos' hands as the other man tried to pull them away, d'Artagnan scowled as he noted the discoloration already appearing on them. "Who have you been beating up? Or should I say whom?"

Withholding the truth, Athos mumbled something beneath his breath. But the pup wasn't having any of that as d'Artagnan's grip tightened on Athos' wrists.

"Truth, Athos," d'Artagnan tiredly demanded, not well enough to argue with his mentor.

"I've been trying to locate the whereabouts of those canailles that did this to you," Athos bit out.

"Aramis killed the ringleader that much I know of," d'Artagnan whispered as his body slid down the headboard until he snuggled under the warmth of his blankets.

"Oui, that one's gone to his maker but the others have gone into hiding like the snakes in the grass that they are." He didn't want their youngest to find out just yet that the men behind the atrocities against d'Artagnan were Red Guards. The lad was smart as a whip and would instantly know that Richelieu had ordered the boy's demise.

Seeing Aramis sauntering back with that damn pain draught, d'Artagnan pulled another face. Athos helped him sit back up and holding out his hand d'Artagnan snatched at the cup and quickly downed it in one large gulp. "Yuck!" he shuddered. "Oh Mon Dieu! That tastes wicked!" Spying Doctor Devereaux approaching, d'Artagnan pouted. "I thought the objective was to heal me not _poison_ me."

"Usually the most foulest concoctions are the ones that work the best, mon garcon," Devereaux removed the empty cup from the child's shaky grip.

"Where's Porthos?" d'Artagnan missed his large friend's off beat sense of humor. Plus he was tired of seeing all the dour faces around him. Seeing a guilty expression cross Athos' face, d'Artagnan wondered at it. "Athos?"

"He could be cleaning up after me," Athos sheepishly admitted. Aramis' quiet laughter didn't help the situation any as Athos could feel the heat begin to rise in his cheeks.

"Were there that many casualties to get rid of?" d'Artagnan and Aramis shared a mutual look of amusement.

"Say five or six," Athos muttered. "I better go see if Porthos has finished." He nodded at d'Artagnan and jerked his head toward Aramis for the sharpshooter to follow Athos out.

Tugging on d'Artagnan's foot, Aramis winked at the boy. "I will come back later."

"Okay," d'Artagnan yawned, the pain draught beginning to work its magic on him. Closing his eyes, it wasn't long after that d'Artagnan's soft snores filled the room.

++++

Catching up to Athos, Aramis could see Porthos had dealt with the clean up just fine. "So, what have you discovered?"

"It was as Treville thought," Athos wanted someone to pay dearly for d'Artagnan's pain, "they've been secreted away where we cannot find them."

"Athos bloodied his hands for nothin'," Porthos complained.

"So now there's no one to be brought up before the king to denounce the cardinal?" Aramis wanted to shoot something or namely someone who coveted his red robes.

"Yeah, this right sucks," Porthos blew out a long breath. He must have appeared extremely vexed as a few Musketeers that were in his vicinity took one look at Porthos and changed direction.

"When's the captain going to explain everything to d'Artagnan?" Aramis observed the silent communication between Porthos and Athos and waited for one of them to respond.

"He hasn't said yet," Athos looked up toward the balcony where Treville usually stood observing his soldiers practicing. "I believe he is going to wait until d'Artagnan's back on his feet."

"There's no sign of that fruit basket I thought Richlieu was would send the lad," Aramis quipped, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere as yet another pair of Musketeers steered clear of them.

"Good thing," Porthos growled low. "I'd of shoved it down the throat of whatever unfortunate sod delivered it to our whelp."

After delivering that announcement, all three men began to laugh at the picture that presented in their minds. It could be said that this was the first time any of them relaxed since finding d'Artagnan in such dire straights.

++++

_Royal Palace_

"I want those men found, Cardinal!" King Louis shouted until his face turned red.

"The boy isn't even a Musketeer," Richelieu nearly shouted back at His Magesty's outburst. "Why all the fuss?"

" _Why all the fuss_?" King Louis repeated in surprise, staring at the cardinal oddly. "D'Artagnan is training to become a Musketeer and from what I've seen so far he'll make an excellent one," he was in Richelieu's face as he remarked upon that. "On top of that he is under Captain Treville's protection and since the lad's special to my old fox that makes d'Artagnan special to me as well," he turned around flouncing away. "I want them found, Cardinal!"

Muttering on his way out of the palace, Richelieu's mind was working in different directions trying to figure out how he could appease the king without pointing a finger in his own direction.

 

 

 

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

_Next day - Palais-Cardinal_

Head bent over his work, Richelieu's hand continually rubbed at his forehead. He was still trying to come up with something to appease the king over what had nearly happened to d'Artagnan.

 _D'Artagnan_ , Richelieu couldn't believe the plan Andre had concocted to end the boy's life. He wanted d'Artagnan gone, that much was true, but not in such a brutal fashion. This is what comes of not checking into the backgrounds of the men he commissioned in his Red Guards. Evidently Andre had more than a few screws loose. Of course the rest of the men had to follow Andre's orders as he was the one Richelieu charged with seeing this through.

Now the boy was still alive and Richelieu had no doubt that Treville would soon come sniffing around him trying to point a finger in his direction. Not to mention the inseparables more than likely would move heaven and earth to find out who was behind these damnable events.

Rubbing both hands over his face, Richelieu pushed the ledger aside he had been concentrating on. He hadn't accomplished much anyway as he stared down at the scrawled numbers that began to blur before him. Too little sleep of late and a mountain of worries piled on top of his head. Mostly of his own making and Richelieu couldn't place the blame anywhere but on his own head.

He prayed that the inseparables hadn't gotten a good look of any of the men out in the field that day. Otherwise Richelieu really would be feeling the wrath of King Louis fall down upon him. But he sent the remaining men as far away from Paris as possible and Richelieu was confident that they couldn't be traced.

Concerned as how to handle the affair of d'Artagnan, now that the lad had survived, Richelieu was at a complete loss. Should he visit the child while he convalesced in the infirmary still or should Richelieu stay far away for the time being.

Getting up from his desk, Richelieu grabbed his cape and fastened it around his neck. He'd go to the chapel and pray for guidance as how best to proceed. Some would say he was a hypocrite of magnificent proportions considering that he had ordered d'Artagnan's death. Perhaps God would not be willing to listen to his prayers. Perhaps he needed to be forgiven for his foolishness in trying to rid himself of a potential threat that was so closely linked to him. Heading out of his office, Richelieu only could hope he'd find the answers he was seeking.

++++

_Infirmary_

"Shoosh!" Porthos fiercely whispered as Aramis let the door slam shut behind him. "Kid's still sleepin'."

Holding up both hands in face of Porthos' anger, Aramis winced. "Apologies, I didn't realize it would make such a noise," he lowered his voice as his large friend had, not wanting to wake the youngster from a sound sleep.

"Both of you tone it down," Athos quirked a brow at them. Quietly walking over to the sleeping boy, he stood looking down over d'Artagnan. Their youngest had proved to be more resilient than they had given him credit for. The lad's been trying to get Doctor Devereaux to release him from the man's clutches and those foul tasting draughts of his ever since his incarceration in the infirmary.

"I still believe the captain should talk to d'Artagnan sooner rather than later over who tried to kill him," Aramis crossed his arms and tapped his one foot impatiently until Porthos glared at him, making him stop.

"Treville's probably trying to work out how to explain to our pup that Richelieu tried to have him murdered," Athos still damned himself that he couldn't come up with anything tangible on where those damn Red Guards fled too.

"Maybe it's best ta just let sleepin' dogs lie," Porthos offered gruffly.

"And let the cardinal get away with this!" Aramis was incensed at the idea. "What happens if Richelieu tries again and succeeds next time?" he spit out, not really angry at Porthos' suggestion but at the thought of things that could yet transpire.

"If I may offer," Athos stepped in-between the two friendly combatants, "a word or two of friendly advice?"

Removing his hat, Aramis bowed and swept his arm out wide. "You may, mon frere."

"My thanks," Athos retorted dryly. "Since those canailles have slipped through our fingers, we shall approach with caution and keep d'Artagnan close. If Treville sends the lad on a mission," he stabbed his brothers with a sharp look, "one or more of us will be assigned to it as well."

"Operation keep d'Art safe," Porthos grinned with hands on his hips. "I like the sound of that."

"I do not have the heart to wake the boy," Athos murmured quietly. "Let us come back later and perhaps d'Artagnan will be awake by then."

So as the three men left the room, d'Artagnan's eyes slowly creeped open. Ever since the door had slammed behind Aramis at his entrance, he had feigned sleep. A sadness he couldn't define filled him at the thought that his birth father wanted to see him dead. It really shouldn't have bothered him but it did.

If he had been nicer to the cardinal perhaps this terrible thing would have never happened to him. Filled with determination to face Richelieu on his own terms, d'Artagnan vowed to get better as soon as he was able and then he'd have it out with the cardinal.

Hearing that little voice in his head, that was Athos chiding him for being the impetuous youth that he was, d'Artagnan ignored it. It wasn't like this had happened to Athos, Aramis or Porthos. This vile deed had been done to him and him alone.

Knowing that his brothers were probably trying to find the culprits eased his sore heart somewhat but d'Artagnan could read between the lines. From the little he had garnered, from his brother's conversation, it did not sound like those Red Guards that had tried to kill him had been apprehended.

If Richelieu treasured his head, and did not want to see it lopped off in front of God and country, then the next time d'Artagnan saw him they would come to an understanding.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did this in a hurry to post today because I probably won't post anything til hopefully the weekend. I'll have picked up my computer from the tech guy and he said after the diagnostic was done and he had looked at it nothing was wrong. So I still won't know why it stalls or freezes considering I bought this in July. Now on the downside the HP notebook I bought last week to use during this just bit the dust last night as it froze during an HP update and it gave me a blank screen and won't shut down and HP support thinks its hardware, etc. I still have time to return it to Wal-mart which I am doing tomorrow night. Hence getting this story up in a rush. Hope it's okay.

_A week and a half later_

_Musketeer garrison – infirmary_

The infirmary couldn’t contain the fast healing Gascon any longer and Doctor Devereaux had thrown up his hands in surrender and finally released the lad after a harrowing week of the boy telling him that he was _fine_.

Athos was off in the wings threatening the doctor with a sound thrashing if d’Artagnan fell ill soon after being released. Devereaux weighed his options and figured since the boy was mending well it wasn’t worth hurting his eardrums, or the headache he had collected along the way, any longer with d’Artagnan’s many and varied complaints. Anyway, if Athos wanted a fight, Devereaux would surprise the Musketeer at his own ability to hold his own in one.

Looking out his window Devereaux studied the determination written on that very young face. Frowning, he observed the boy head for the stables. Wondering what the lad was getting up to so soon after being released, Devereaux thought perhaps he should notify one of the inseparables. Then again, what business of his was it to meddle in their affairs. He had enough on his hands treating injuries the rest of the regiment kept him busy with.

_Palais-Cardinal_

Wasting no time, pushing past several Red Guards, d’Artagnan wasn’t in the mood to wait for an audience with Richelieu. Upon entering the cardinal’s domain he had to force his way past three more guards on duty until His Eminence barked out orders that made the soldiers leave them alone.

Watching as his son slowly made his approach, Richelieu wiped his face clean of any anxiety. He did not want or need d’Artagnan to feel as if the lad had the upper hand. For he knew very well why the child had come to see him.

Giving Richelieu a mocking bow, d’Artagnan lifted his head and bestowed upon the cardinal his most arrogant look. Smirking he greeted him. “My Lord, Cardinal.”

“D’Artagnan,” Richelieu nodded and waved his hand airily for the young man to take a seat. Then folding his hands neatly in his lap he waited for d'Artagnan to speak first.

“You are probably wondering why I have seeked you out without being properly invited,” d’Artagnan glared at the man sitting in front of him who thought he held all the cards. He relished the fact that Richelieu wasn’t quite as calm as he would have liked d’Artagnan to believe. For he could see a sheen of sweat glistening on the older man’s forehead. Plus the nervous twitch near his right eye told its own story.

“The thought had crossed my mind,” Richelieu’s eyes narrowed a fraction on the small smile that graced d’Artagnan’s face. “You are fortunate that I didn’t have my men throw you bodily out the door.”

“After all you have had done to me I figured it would be in your best interests to hear me out.” Well, well, d’Artagnan got a good reaction from the cardinal that time. Seeing Richelieu’s eyebrows rise high and the cardinal’s relaxed pose was a thing of the past as he instantly stood up.

“Just what is it you are accusing me of!” Richelieu snapped angrily.

“Why for nearly losing my life in a field not far outside of Paris due to some Red Guards in your employ,” d’Artagnan watched as nearly all the color leeched out of Richelieu’s regal features.

“Explain yourself!” he said harshly as Richelieu sat back down. He furiously was thinking of ways he could lie his way out of this. But the one thing he hadn’t taken into consideration was that d’Artagnan knew his attackers belong to his Red Guard regiment. This was damning news in itself. So as the boy sat there explaining the events that led to d’Artagnan’s stay in the infirmary, Richelieu held up a slightly shaky hand to halt the lad’s words.

“So the other Musketeer recognized these men?” Richelieu swallowed hard. “He was positive they were commissioned in my guards?”

“Oui,” d’Artagnan glared at Richelieu. His Eminence knew very well Athos’ name but insisted on calling his friend merely a Musketeer. “I was still in the infirmary and they thought I was asleep when I overheard them talking. Apparently your men have suddenly disappeared,” he remarked slyly. “Something of a regular occurrence I’ve been told when things don’t go quite your way and you try to cover up the evidence.”

Ignoring the boy’s last comment, Richelieu fired back. “Why? Why in heaven’s name would my men want to kill you?”

“That’s been running through my mind as well,” d’Artagnan stood up. “The only conclusion I could come to was that they were under _your_ orders because _you_ wanted me out of the way.”

“You think a lot of yourself,” Richelieu huffed. “I wouldn’t risk my position to do something like that.”

“It was because you thought your _position_ was at risk that you ordered it,” d’Artagnan hissed. “I’m a nasty loose end you can’t afford to have hanging around your neck,” d’Artagnan laughed but it wasn’t a pleasant sound.

“I’m no threat to you and never had been.” D’Artagnan walked around the desk to stand in front of the man whose distasteful blood flowed through his veins. “It was my defiant attitude toward you and in turning down your offer to join the Red Guards it must have gotten your goat, making you mad enough to order my execution.”

Tapping his fingers on his desk, Richelieu studied the smooth, clear varnish coating the wood, then he glanced back up at the boy. “Preposterous accusations,” he chuckled. “Please do tell me that Treville hasn’t gone to the king with these erroneous lies?”

“The captain had already informed His Majesty that one man - _Andre_ ,” d’Artagnan emphasized the name with a sharp look at the cardinal, “was a Red Guard.” Crossing his arms he noticed that twitch near Richelieu’s eye beat alarmingly fast. Ah ha! Got you! “But you already knew that much because I heard tell that King Louis was furious and wants the others that were involved found.”

“All I remember was that His Majesty told me you were attacked and he wanted the people involved apprehended as swiftly as possible,” he frowned. “No names were mentioned, least of all this Andre’s,” he sighed. “Speaking of this man,” Richelieu tapped a finger against his lips, “was he brought to the Bastille?”

“Andre was killed by Aramis to save my life,” d’Artagnan decided enough was enough of this pretense. Richelieu would never admit his guilt. “I just wanted to tell you myself now that I know you were behind it all.” Seeing the cardinal about to spout a bunch of lies denying it again, he held up a finger. “You leave me alone and I won’t go to King Louis with my suspicions about your activities concerning me,” d’Artagnan picked up a paper weight from the desk, tossing it up and down a few times. What he really would have liked was to throw it at the cardinal’s head.

“Understand this. I’m going to be around for a long time, God willing,” d’Artagnan put the paper weight down, nearly laughing as Richelieu looked like d’Artagnan was indeed about to throw it at him. Before leaving he decided to impart one more thing. “You can pretend I don’t exist,” he chuckled. “That shouldn’t be too much of a stretch for you. Seeing how your keen eyesight manages to miss much of what goes on around you.”

“Are you completely done?” Richelieu drawled. The child's Gascon temper that he had heard about came as no surprise to him as the lad’s mother had one exactly like it.

“You have no idea,” d’Artagnan snarled and spun around, walking towards the exit. But his progress came to a halt at the cardinal’s next words.

“I do not claim to know why those men tried to kill you and to do it in such a horrendous fashion is beyond me,” Richelieu’s lies were partially true up to a point, since he never told his guards to blow the youngster to pieces. “But if it will put your mind at ease you won’t have to worry on anything like that happening again," he nodded. "I'll guarantee it."

Without turning around, d’Artagnan threw over his shoulder, “Sounds to me like a guilty conscience talking!” he spat. “See that you keep your word.” Slamming the door behind him, d’Artagnan didn’t see Richelieu fold both arms on top of the desk to bury his head in them.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To all my readers, a lot who have become writing pals, I wish you a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
> 
> ++++

_Same day, early afternoon - Garrison courtyard_

Athos was giving a lesson to several new recruits when he spotted d'Artagnan joining Porthos and Aramis on the bench. He dipped his head acknowledging the boy and wondering about the smug smile the young Gascon wore.

++++

"So, d'Artagnan," Aramis smiled at the lad, "having just been released from the good doctor's hands how do you feel?"

"Still sore but I'm not going to let that slow me down for long," d'Artagnan managed to snatch a bright, shiny red apple out of Porthos' hands, making the dark-skinned Musketeer growl at him.

"There's a basket of fresh fruit right on our table," Porthos glared at the youngster. "Stop being a lazy layabout and go get your own." He grabbed his apple back from d'Artagnan's hands and watched the whelp's mouth form a perfect pout for which the lad's become famous for.

Doing exactly what Porthos wanted him too, d'Artagnan sat munching his apple while observing his mentor in action.

Catching Porthos' eye, Aramis pointed to the boy. Seeing the larger man shrug, not understanding what Aramis wanted from him, Aramis rolled his eyes. "Ummmm, d'Artagnan, where were you earlier?"

Dragging his attention off of Athos, d'Artagnan looked at Aramis quizzically. "Earlier?"

"Oui," Aramis moved to sit beside the boy. "I knew of your release from the infirmary from Devereaux. I expected you to come see one of us or all of us straight away and when you did not we started to become concerned."

"As you can see I'm here and in one piece," d'Artagnan bit into his apple again letting the juices run down his chin until Aramis handed him a napkin. "My thanks."

Realizing, a little late, that Aramis had wanted Porthos to question the whelp, he gave the marksman a sheepish grin. To which Aramis huffed, shaking his head back at him.

Seeing several Red Guards drifting toward them, Aramis and Porthos instantly stood up forming a protective shield in front of d'Artagnan. To which the boy kept trying to push them aside to see what they were trying to hide him from.

"Will you two stop that!" Standing up, d'Artagnan shoved himself between the two older men to face the Red Guards.

One of the Red Guards held out his hand to give d'Artagnan a letter with the cardinal's seal on it. He barely waited for the boy to take it before swiftly turning away to leave with his companion.

"Why is Richelieu sending you a missive?' Porthos exchanged worried looks with Aramis.

Forgetting himself, d'Artagnan answered honestly. "Probably has something to do with my seeing him this morning." Opening the letter he started to read it when he realized what he had let slip. Shooting his friends a cautious look, d'Artagnan winced at the sight of two very angry Musketeers. They tried to disguise it at first knowing that d'Artagnan wasn't supposed to be privy to the knowledge that Richelieu was the one trying to kill him. But their anger got the better of them.

"What in blue blazes were you thinking in seeing the cardinal all by yourself!" Aramis was ready to box d'Artagnan's ears he was so mad.

"The question is, Arams," d'Artagnan said indignantly, "when were you three going to tell me of Richelieu's involvement in what happened to me?"

"Oy!" Porthos dropped his head, not being able to look the whelp in the eye now. "Kid knows, Mis."

Rounding on Porthos, Aramis was red in the face. "What do you mean he _knows_?"

"Look at 'em," Porthos suggested. "Kid knows all right."

Doing what Porthos asked, Aramis could indeed tell that the lad knew. "How?"

"I wasn't quite as asleep as you all seemed to think that one night when all of you were with me in the infirmary," d'Artagnan kept his eyes on Athos' quick movements as he continued to teach the recruits. "Overheard you speak of Richelieu's involvement in what happened to me." Snorting softly he added, "Makes sense now that it was the cardinal's guards that tried to blow me to bits," he tossed the apple core away and stood up. "As soon as I was able I confronted him."

"Mon Dieu!" Aramis grabbed the boy by both of his shoulders and shook him hard. "Do you have a death wish? Or are you just having a _stupid day_?"

Shoving Aramis' hands away, d'Artagnan stepped back from his friend. "Try that again, Aramis, and I'll give you a reason to practice your rusty sword work." Hearing Porthos' amused laughter, d'Artagnan shifted his gaze his way. "What's so funny?"

Holding his sides as he continued to laugh, Porthos said, "You tellin' Mis that he's out of practice."

"Aramis concentrates too much on his marksmanship and sometimes," d'Artagnan shrugged, "let's his work with the rapier suffer for it."

"Oh ho now!" Porthos crowed. "Our pup's puttin' ya in your place, Mis."

Wondering how the conversation got all turned around, Aramis strode over to where Athos was showing an unusual technique to Jean.

He could have guessed what Aramis was telling his mentor so d'Artagnan just stood beside Porthos waiting for Athos to reign fire and brimstone on top of his head. He didn't have long to wait as d'Artagnan watched Aramis take over for Athos and he observed the older man head in his direction breathing fire.

"Have you completely lost your mind?" Athos roared, causing Porthos to wince at the noise.

Giving Athos his most innocent expression, d'Artagnan shook his head. "Non," he touched his head. "It's still in there."

Throwing his rapier on top of the bench, Athos removed his hat. Then he too reached out to shake the lad as Aramis had but in this instance, d'Artagnan knew what was coming and danced out of reach.

"I am not such a child as to be told what not to do when it concerns my life!" d'Artagnan fired back. Touching his chest he repeated. "My life! Not yours, Athos!"

"Hey, hey now," Porthos held out both hands. "Why don't we all sit done and talk nice and quiet like?"

Both d'Artagnan and Athos turned on Porthos and glared at him.

"Or not," Porthos grumbled.

Throwing up his hands in the air, Athos stared at the boy. He was absolutely stunned to find out what d'Artagnan had done. He wanted to protect the lad and here d'Artagnan braved the lion's den all by himself with none of them around to provide protection. Sometimes he wondered about this young Gascon. "Richlieu is the last man you should ever be around alone!" he shouted in frustration. "What do I have to say to get you to comprehend that?"

"Nothing," d'Artagnan replied flatly. "I totally understand what you're trying to shove down my throat."

"Water under the damn bridge now," Athos said. "May I ask what the outcome of your visit with the cardinal was?"

"After having informed His Eminence I knew he was behind my attempted murder," d'Artagnan noted Athos blue eyes harden again. They reminded him of when he lived in Lupiac and a summer storm was brewing. But this storm had a name and a mighty hand with a blade to go along with it. "I told him I was no threat to his position and suggested for him to leave me alone... or else?"

"Or else what?" Porthos asked before Athos could.

"Or I would go to King Louis personally and tell him who was actually behind the attempt on my life." Seeing Athos look about near to fainting, d'Artagnan tried not to smile.

"Dieu!" Athos stood there dumbfounded. "Save me from Gascon pups." He literally collapsed on the bench seat. "I'm afraid to ask but what did Richelieu have to say to all that?"

"Said I wouldn't ever have to worry on that score ever again." This time he waited patiently for whatever his mentor had to say next.

"The man's like a cobra," Athos snarled. "One that would gladly give you the bite of death," he stabbed d'Artagnan with a look full of trepidation. "Nothing for it now. The cardinal knows you are aware of his involvement. Just be on guard at all times, boy."

"Tell me something I do not know," d'Artagnan rolled his eyes. "I've got to go see the captain." With a nod at both men, d'Artagnan left them to it.

" _Operation keep d'Art safe_ sounds harder all the time," Porthos commented, watching the whelp take the steps two at a time leading to Treville's office.

"When does anything ever go easy for us," Athos sighed, stood up and went to relieve Aramis.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In case I don't post anything else for a bit, though I probably will, here's to a Happy New Year to all my readers and writing pals!
> 
> ++++

_Still same day, early afternoon - Captain Treville's office_

Having received a missive from Cardinal Richelieu, d'Artagnan had urgent need to see his captain and that's how he now found himself sitting opposite his long time family friend. Watching the expressions flit across Treville's face as he read the letter from his so called father, d'Artagnan could see worry plagued the older man.

"I don't like this," Treville threw the letter down on his desk, using a pencil to push it around. "Why would Richelieu want you on his detail when he goes to visit one of his acquaintances?"

"Your guess is as good as mind, sir," d'Artagnan fidgited in his chair. "Whatever you do, don't tell Athos, Porthos or Aramis about this," he sighed. "They've already given me grief over my visit to His Eminence earlier."

"Oui," Treville's eyes narrowed on the lad, "and that's another thing!" he snapped out. "If you weren't so big I'd tan your britches but good for doing such a crazy, dangerous stunt." He got the whole story out of the boy about his visit to see Richelieu and Treville nearly hit the roof when d'Artagnan had spit it out.

Slumping further down into his chair, d'Artagnan felt about five years old. It reminded him of when his papa would berate him over some silly escapade he had pulled on the farm. Usually it always involved d'Artagnan getting hurt and his maman clucking over him like a mother hen. Now the only _clucking_ he heard came from the inseparables.

"All right, d'Artagnan, listen to me," Treville leaned back in his chair, "I don't know what game the cardinal's playing this time, but you won't be the only Musketeer with his detail."

"I know," d'Artagnan smiled. "Rene, Henri and Simon will be along as well."

Rubbing his chin Treville wondered if he should, against the boy's wishes, place the inseparables in the detail instead of the others. At least they knew the true relationship between the youngster and the cardinal. Especially what bloody well near happened to the boy. But one look at d'Artagnan's face told Treville the pup wouldn't appreciate those three as his babysitters on this assignment. "All I can say is be careful and keep your eyes open."

"Even though the cardinal will never admit his part in what happened to me, I have his promise that I wouldn't have to worry about anything like that occurring again," d'Artagnan explained. "I doubt he'd be stupid enough to repeat it. Especially after I told him I wasn't going to air his dirty laundry for all and sundry."

"This could indeed be all innocent on his part," Treville agreed. "Perhaps it's his way of apologizing by making sure you are included in his party."

"I don't even know where we're going yet," d'Artagnan said. "Guess I'll find out when I report to him tomorrow."

"Get your things together and be ready then," Treville said. "Richelieu is not known for his patience if you end up running late."

"Heaven forbid I get on his bad side again," d'Artagnan actually chuckled at this.

"What are you going to tell your brothers?"

"Part of the truth," d'Artagnan got up from his seat to stand near the window as he watched his friends sparring. "That I'll be on an assignment with Simon, Rene and Henri."

"Mmmmm," Treville hummed. "Better be off now or those three down there will be coming up here any minute to ask what's going on."

"All right," d'Artagnan smiled. "Thanks, Captain." Then he quietly left the office.

Watching the lad leave, Treville thought that if the inseparables asked him about d'Artagnan's mission he wasn't going to lie. He knew d'Artagnan wouldn't appreciate it, but Treville never did answer either way when the boy asked him not to say anything to them.

Rummaging around in his desk, Treville muttered to himself. "Where are they, damn it!" Not finding what he wanted, he shook his head. He was looking for his ear plugs for Treville knew once the inseparables were told of d'Artagnan's true mission he'd be getting an earful from his three best men.

++++

Seeing d'Artagnan coming out of Treville's office, Porthos stopped sparring with Aramis. The latter was glad of that since he was currently on the ground after having been thrown over Porthos' shoulder several times.

"Hey, d'Art!" Porthos hollered out. "Where ya goin' ta?"

"I've got to get some supplies gathered," d'Artagnan waved at his brother as he headed for the canteen to see Serge, "I leave in the morning with Henri, Rene and Simon."

"Mmmmm," Aramis observed the haste which d'Artagnan left them and remained curious. "An assignment that just came up out of the blue?" His questioning gaze landed on Porthos who only raised one brow up.

"Athos is still pissed over the kid visitin' Richelieu," Porthos announced gruffly. "Kid's just barely healed from 'is near death experience and now 'e's gonna go out on a mission without us backin' 'im up," he felt frustration building within him. "I ain't likin' it one bit."

"Nor do I, mon ami," Aramis replied, "nor do I."

++++

_Garrison canteen_

"Hey, d'Artagnan!" Serge greeted the lad. "Good to see you out of that infirmary," he patted the boy on the back. "What can I do for ye?"

"I'm going on an assignment tomorrow and need some food to take along," d'Artagnan followed the older man into Serge's kitchen. He was used to being there since d'Artagnan sometimes helped Serge out in his spare time. Being from Gascony d'Artagnan had some of his maman's recipes memorized, as he used to be her helper in the kitchen back home, and had shared them with Serge from time to time.

"No problem," Serge grinned. "I'll put some things together for you, and you can stop by here tomorrow morning to pick them up. How long you going to be gone for?"

"That is a question," d'Artagnan smiled. "I honestly don't know yet."

"Doesn't matter," Serge nodded. "I'll have enough ready to fill that there skinny body of yours," he shook his head. "You need to put more meat on them bones."

Chuckling, d'Artagnan made his way to the entrance. "You sound like Porthos."

"That man knows what he's talking about," Serge laughed and waved goodbye to the lad.

++++

_Garrison courtyard_

"Didn't either of you question d'Artagnan further?" Athos was good and angry to hear their youngest was leaving without them. "Tis too soon!" he complained as he paced back and forth in front of Porthos and Aramis.

"Kid didn't look upset about it," Porthos offered then wished he kept his mouth shut when Athos glowered at him. "I'm just sayin' is all."

"Athos, don't take this out on us," Aramis huffed. "We're just as annoyed as you."

"Perhaps the captain will shed some light on where d'Artagnan is going." Athos didn't waste precious time as he rapidly took the steps leading to Treville's office.

++++

_Captain Treville's office... again_

Hearing the knock upon his door, Treville closed his eyes for a brief moment. "And now it starts," he muttered. "Entre!" He wasn't the least surprised to see that it was his lieutenant come to call. "Pray tell what brings you up here," he remarked sarcastically.

"Something tells me you already know, Captain," Athos' clipped tone was not lost on Treville as the older man's eyes widened.

"If this is about d'Artagnan leaving tomorrow there's nothing I can do about it," Treville snapped. Some days he felt like he was in charge of an all boy's school and Treville was the headmaster instead of being captain of the king's regiment.

"You could at least tell me what the lad's assignment entails," Athos was surprised at the captain's reaction. It didn't appear to him as if Treville wanted to give too much away. "I'm not going to like this am I?"

Looking anywhere in the room but at Athos, Treville then hung his head down and counted to ten. He would have counted longer but knew it wouldn't do him any good for Athos would still be standing there demanding his answers. "D'Artagnan has been asked by Cardinal Richelieu to be part of his detail tomorrow morning," he immediately held up his hand as Athos started to open his mouth to argue. "He will not be the only Musketeer in attendance as Rene, Simon and Henri are to go along as well."

"But the _cardinal_!" Athos spat. "I don't care what that bastard told the boy! Richelieu can't be trusted!"

"There is nothing I can do about this and you know it, Athos," Treville said. "We never got solid proof that Richelieu was behind the attack on d'Artagnan. But now that the cardinal knows we have our suspicions I don't believe he will act against the lad any longer." He walked over to where Athos stiffly stood. "The cardinal now knows d'Artagnan never had any intention of revealing the truth that Richelieu is his birth father."

"And I'm to be satisfied with that?" Athos was angry and dearly wanted to take his anger out on His Eminence but he knew that could never happen lest he found himself dangling from the end of a noose.

"You'll have to be." Treville could tell that wasn't what the man wanted to hear as Athos spun around to leave. His next words though brought his lieutenant to a complete halt. "Now I wouldn't say no if you three wanted to go out on patrol tomorrow say around the same time d'Artagnan leaves."

With a grin spreading from one end of his face to the other, Athos' blue eyes flared to life again. "That sounds like a fine idea to me, sir."

"I thought you'd say something like that," Treville laughed. "Now get out of here do." God save him from his men at times. It was a wonder he hadn't developed an ulcer until now. Though at the rate things kept happening around d'Artagnan that _ulcer_ was still a possibility.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See note at the bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Next day, mid morning - Palais-Cardinal_

Sitting inside his carriage Richelieu noted the arrival, _and on time for once_ , of Treville's Musketeers. He didn't recognize the other three soldiers with d'Artagnan but would have been surprised if he had since Richelieu limited his time among the Musketeers as much as possible. Of course whenever King Louis decided to throw an impromptu ball or he was entertaining visiting dignitaries, Richelieu had to put up with the pesky Musketeers then. To Richelieu's thinking Musketeers were like flies on a wall that needed a good swat every now and then to be rid of them.

"Your Eminence," d'Artagnan acknowledged Richelieu respectfully as he spoke for himself and the other Musketeers, knowing Rene, Henri and Simon held nothing but contempt for the cardinal. Truth be told nearly the entire Musketeer regiment felt the same way toward Richelieu. "May I now ask where we are headed? Or is that to remain a state secret?" Knowing he shouldn't have tacked that last part on, d'Artagnan just couldn't contain his snarkiness.

"Calais," Richelieu waved the boy closer, deciding to ignore the way his son posed that question to him. He waited while d'Artagnan drew his horse near the carriage before saying anything further. "I am to meet an old friend there."

Pursing his lips, d'Artagnan wondered who this person was but hesitated asking anything more of the cardinal. After all, d'Artagnan and the others were here to guard Richelieu and for no other reason. 

Seeing the curiosity roused in the young Gascon's eyes, Richelieu smiled. "Comte Frederic de Quitte-beuf and I go way back to my college days," he chuckled remembering some of the things they used to get up too.

Surprised that the cardinal imparted that much information, d'Artagnan was bereft of words. But then his attention turned away from Richelieu as he heard a roar of laughter coming from Rene, followed by Henri and Simon's guffaws. Twisting around in his saddle, d'Artagnan spied what was so amusing.

Laying flat on his back on the dirt ground was a Red Guard who apparently brought too many provisions along. It was obvious to d'Artagnan what had happened. The guard had been trying to wrestle with his saddlebags that were filled to the brim with supplies. The saddlebags won of course as the guard had tried and failed to secure them onto his horse's back. So while the Red Guard struggled all alone to remove the heavy saddlebags on his chest, d'Artagnan covered his mouth with a hand to stifle his own laughter. Catching sight of Richelieu rolling his eyes nearly undid his good intentions all together.

Making the sign of the cross, Richelieu's face let it be known he was not amused at this delay. " _Pray not for lighter burdens but for stronger backs_ ," he muttered in disgust.

"My Lord," one of the mounted Red Guards approached the carriage, "we are ready to depart."

"You are quite sure about that?" Richelieu drew the guard's attention over to the soldier's comrade who still didn't have his saddlebags secured yet.

"He will catch up to us, His Eminence," dipping his head in respect the guard left to ride up ahead. Glancing at d'Artagnan Richlieu said, "Let us be off then."

With an entourage consisting of eight Red Guards, three Musketeers and d'Artagnan, Cardinal Richelieu's carriage finally left for Calais.

++++

"D'Artagnan," Rene rode abreast of the youngster, puzzled at not only the Musketeers inclusion on this detail but on the boy who wasn't even in the regiment yet but only a raw recruit. "Why were we included?"

His maman always told d'Artagnan that she was the only one who could tell when he told a fib, so putting on his most innocent expression he lied through his teeth since Rene was not his dear maman. "Perhaps tis a test to see if Musketeers and Red Guards could work together without trying to kill one another," he laughed lightly at his own jest. "As for me, bien I think Captain Treville wanted me to gain some experience." He knew very well why Rene and the other men were ordered to come along, but d'Artagnan still didn't know why Richelieu asked for him specifically. It had chafed at first when d'Artagnan had found out that Captain Treville wanted the other Musketeers around for his own protection. But after the near tragic event that had happened to him d'Artagnan couldn't blame his captain for being overly concerned about his welfare. Plus, d'Artagnan didn't think Treville relished the idea of writing to d'Artagnan's family back home that he had been killed while under the captain's watch. He wouldn't put it past his papa, or maman for that matter, riding to Paris to confront the cardinal. For d'Artagnan knew that Richelieu would be the main one under suspicion as far as his parents were concerned.

"I hate Red Guards," Henri groaned as he rode on d'Artagnan's other side with Simon trailing behind the trio.

"Don't worry," Rene chuckled, "I'm quite sure the Red Guards reciprocate the feeling," he glanced over his shoulder to encounter a Red Guard scowling at him. "Only more so," he added.

"Tis only a week's journey to Calais," d'Artagnan reminded them. "We should be glad tis not any longer than that." Noting three heads bob up and down in agreement with him, d'Artagnan concentrated on the terrain up ahead. He didn't like surprises coming up to bite him in the ass.

++++

"Ya think we're far enough away?" Porthos and his brothers left shortly after Richelieu's carriage had.

"Tis not hard to follow the trail the cardinal's carriage makes," Athos leaned slightly to the right to stare down at the tracks the wheels had dug into the ground.

"You do realize that the lot of us could be blowing this up out of proportion ," Aramis pointed out. Only to receive twin sets of glowers from both Athos and Porthos. "I'm merely jesting, mon amis."

"Keep your _jests_ ta yourself, Mis."

"Some people have no sense of humor," Aramis grumbled and could have sworn he heard muffled laughter coming from Athos. But that would have been impossible since his brother didn't have a humorous bone in his body.

++++

_Late afternoon_

Sticking his hand out the window, Richelieu waved d'Artagnan back over to his carriage again. 'My guards informed me of an inn up ahead where I can spend the night. Four of my guards will of course be inside keeping me safe."

"Of course," d'Artagnan dryly returned.

"You and the others will make camp close to where the inn is located," Richelieu finished and was about to dismiss the lad when d'Artagnan asked him another question.

"Why did you order Captain Treville to include me in your detail?"

He could easily see d'Artagnan was ill at ease and probably thinking up all sorts of imaginative reasons for Richelieu wanting him along. "Experience, child," he offered. "Simply that and nothing more," he added. "Anything else?" he quirked a brow.

"Not for the moment," d'Artagnan pulled Zad away from the carriage and rejoined the other Musketeers. He wasn't sure if the cardinal was telling him the truth or not.

++++

_Early evening - The Beau Geste Inn_

Helped out of his carriage, Richelieu stared up at the sign that declared the inn's name. "Quaint," Richelieu murmured. "Beautiful or gracious gesture," he spoke mostly to himself of what the inn's name meant. "Noble in form but often futile or meaningless in substance." Waiting for his Red Guards to enter the establishment before him, Richelieu hoped the food the inn served had more _substance_ to it than its namesake for he was famished.

++++

A short distance away the remaining Red Guards, d'Artagnan and the Musketeers made ready their camp for the evening.

"At least tis not too chilly a night," Simon grinned as he finished building their campfire. He was taken aback when one of the Red Guards had bothered to gather wood for it and had given it to him awhile earlier.

"D'Artagnan caught a rabbit," Rene announced cheerfully. "Now who is going to cook it so we can dine in style, eh?" He was amused as each of the Red Guards shook their heads _not them_ in unison. Turning to glance at Henri who blanched at the suggestion and Simon who winced, Rene finally caught d'Artagnan's rueful gaze.

"Tis fine," d'Artagnan rolled his eyes. 'I usually get stuck with that duty when out with Aramis, Porthos and Athos."

"Newbies usually get the grunt work," Simon's small huff of laughter was joined in by the others as he built up the fire.

"I would offer my services," Rene smiled sheepishly, "but am told I burn nearly everything I cook."

Waving Rene's comment aside, d'Artagnan grinned. "Tis no matter as I make a hearty rabbit stew even if I do say so myself," he boasted and then went about his business of doing just that.

++++

Sniffing the air, Porthos' stomach began growling. "Damn!"

Gazing at his brother in concern Athos asked, "What is wrong, aside from your empty belly that is?"

"Can't ya smell it?" Porthos growled low.

Both Aramis and Athos sniffed and then looked at one another in amusement. "Rabbit stew!" they cried in unison.

"D'Artagnan's specialty," Porthos griped and kicked out at a rock. "And here we are with only canned rations ta eat and no fire even ta warm our bones."

"Now, now, Porthos," Aramis cajoled, "you know we can't afford to have a fire this close to their camp or they'll detect us," he shook his head fondly at his friend.

"Still don't make me feel any better," Porthos stomped off.

Pushing his hat back from his head, Aramis whistled softly. "This is going to be a long seven days, mon frere," he shared a wry look with Athos.

++++

_The Beau Geste Inn - Cardinal Richelieu's room_

Having enjoyed a somewhat satisfying meal, Richelieu had retired to the room he had been given. Divesting himself of his clothes, and now only in his nightshirt, he was about to say his prayers before bed when Richelieu heard a noise outside of his room which sounded alarmingly like bodies falling.

When his door suddenly burst open wide, Richelieu could see that his guards were rendered unconscious, or at worse dead, and of no use to him now as he faced his intruders. "I believe you have failed to make an appointment to see me."

"Got a sense of humor this one has," a grubby looking canaille said.

"He'll need it where we're going," another unkept looking man brusquely added.

"Oh," Richelieu wished he had a poignard to at least defend himself with, "we have travel plans do we?"

"Shut up, old man!" a burly looking individual growled and walked over to the closet and threw it open. "Get dressed and make it snappy!"

"As you wish." All the while he dressed Richelieu thought about his error in judgment over not having made the rest of his detail stay inside the inn. Well this wouldn't be the first time his life had been in peril and it wouldn't be the last if he had anything to do with it. When Richelieu was fully dressed he was roughly shoved in the back toward the door. "I gather we are leaving now?"

"Funny man," the burly one's hot breath ghosted over the back of Richelieu's neck. "Your other carriage awaits you, _Your Eminence_."

Listening to the canaille's vulgar and disrespectful tone, Richelieu could only guess at where this was all leading.

 

++++

_Note:_

The quote: _"Pray not for lighter burdens but for stronger backs"_ came from Theodore Roosevelt


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See note at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same night, late evening - The Beau Geste Inn_

Stepping over the bodies of his guards, Richelieu's mouth thinned into a tight line. "Are my men merely unconscious or dead?"

Shoving the cardinal hard in the back once more, the burly looking man snarled into Richelieu's ear and held up a bloody blade in front of His Eminence's face. "What do you think?"

Making the sign of the cross Richelieu murmured quiet prayers for his deceased soldiers.

"Pascal, get Richelieu inside the carriage now," ordered Denis, one of the men in charge.

After herding the cardinal inside, Pascal sat opposite the man of the cloth. "Enjoy the ride, _My Lord_ ," Pascal's tone mocking. "It is after all only a one way trip."

"May I at least know why I am being taken in this manner and my men killed?"

"You need to be taken out of the picture," Pascal sneered, " _way out_ ," he added snidely.

"If I am to be murdered it would be only a courtesy to tell me who I have angered," Richelieu regarded the other man shrewdly. "Perhaps I could make amends in some way?"

" _Amends_ the man says," Pascal cackled. "Only your death could accomplish that."

Poking his head through one of the carriage windows, Denis looked from the cardinal to Pascal and back again. "Gettin' acquainted are we?"

"Hardly," Pascal snorted. "The sooner we leave here and dump our cargo the better I'll feel."

"Few more minutes and we're gone from here," Denis grinned. But before he left he had a few parting words of his own for Cardinal Richelieu's ears. "You're done tryin' to help French citizens into the poor house," he snarled, "and starving our families into the bargain." Wanting to say more, Denis decided against it. He would only be wasting his breath anyway. So giving a curt nod to Pascal he left to get his horse.

++++

_Back to the camp where we left the rest of Richelieu's detail_

Making sure the campfire wouldn't die out in the middle of the night, d'Artagnan threw some more branches onto it. As he stared into the flames burning brightly something, and he didn't know what exactly, nagged at him. So unsettled was he that d'Artagnan got up and went over to where Rene, Simon and Henri were resting for the night. "I'm going to go check on the cardinal."

"Tis late," Henri unnecessarily pointed out. "Besides he has four of his own men for protection inside that inn."

Shrugging, d'Artagnan shook his head until his bangs flew into his face. "Gut feeling," he smiled sheepishly into the three older men's faces. "None of you have to come with me. I just wanted to let you know where I was going." Hearing loud snores coming from the area where the four Red Guards were nestling, d'Artagnan chuckled low. "I doubt they'll care."

"If you're going," Rene sat up and threw his blankets off, "then we're all going."

About to argue the point, d'Artagnan's mouth opened and closed at the sight of Rene holding up a finger. It was such an _Athos thing_ for the other man to do that it made d'Artagnan realized how much he missed his mentor's presence and wise council. Though he would never admit to Athos that the man's _council_ was wise.

"Rene's right, d'Artagnan," Simon chimed in as he began to stand up, kicking his blankets aside. "Captain Treville would have our heads handed to him on a silver platter if we let something happen to you."

Rolling his eyes, d'Artagnan's snuff of laughter surrounded the men. "You lot remind me of the inseparables when they get into their mother-henning mode."

"Where do you think we picked it up from, eh?" Henri grinned as he headed for his horse.

So it was that all four men set off for the inn, leaving behind them the oblivious Red Guards.

++++

_Outside the Beau Geste Inn_

"Ready?" Osmont took in the satisfied faces belonging to his men. "Let's get this over and done with."

The carriage drew slowly away from the inn. Its destination only known to the men involved.

++++

_Inside the Beau Geste Inn, fifteen minutes after the carriage carrying Richelieu departed_

Seeing the blood stained, deceased bodies of the four Red Guards, d'Artagnan rushed headlong into the cardinal's room heedless of the shouted warnings from the men with him. So it wasn't a total shock when Rene's body slammed into his back after d'Artagnan stopped so abruptly. Both men had their pistols drawn as they looked about the room but noted Richelieu was missing.

Checking the closet, Rene's face was grim as he glanced at d'Artagnan. "Tis empty." He and the boy both knew what that meant.

Racing back out the door, Rene and d'Artagnan urged Simon and Henri to leave the dead guards where they lay. After telling the other two men about the missing cardinal, they all rushed out of the inn.

Straining his eyes in the dark, d'Artagnan squatted down trying to locate any signs of fresh tracks leading away from the inn.

"Whomever has Richelieu," Simon pointed over to the other side of the inn, "they must have their own mode of transportation because the cardinal's carriage remains here."

"I can just make out tracks from a the wheels of either a wagon or another carriage," d'Artagnan said, "and they lead away from here," his hand hovered over the markings.

"Should we go back to our camp for the cardinal's men?" Rene was worried for time may well indeed be a factor for Richelieu.

"That will only slow us up," d'Artagnan quickly re-mounted Zad.

"What he said," Simon agreed as did Henri.

"Decision made then," Rene and his brothers all headed for their mounts as well.

++++

_Inseparable's camp_

"Mis, what's up?" Porthos, as well as, Athos and Aramis were restless with worry over their pup and sleep was elusive. He had been observing Aramis looking through his spy glass every half hour or so as his brother watched the goings on in d'Artagnan's camp. When the marksman approached him, Aramis wore a puzzled frown.

"The boy took off along with the rest of our brothers," Aramis was concerned and noted the same looks reflected on his friend's faces.

"Which direction did they take?" Athos immediately went over to where Roger was tied up.

"I'd say back to the inn where Richelieu's staying." They had been briefed by Captain Treville on the cardinal's itinerary and knew where and when His Eminence would be. Quickly following suit, Aramis readied Belle as he saddled her again.

"Hurry up you two!" Porthos shouted, not caring who heard him now while he too saddled Roulette in double quick time.

"What does the man think we are trying to do," Athos huffed as he lead the way to the inn, praying the whole while that d'Artagnan remained safe. He cared not a fig for the cardinal's safety.

++++

_The Beau Geste Inn... (Yes, again, folks. We keep going back there don't we?)  
_

The inseparables had barely arrived, not even getting a chance to dismount, when the innkeeper came out screaming about dead Red Guards and the cardinal being forcefully removed from his establishment.

After they had sufficiently calmed down Monsieur Dampmartin, the proprietor, they were informed that a youngster and three Musketeers had already come and gone after the culprits. Looking at one another, the inseparables realized that d'Artagnan and their other brothers couldn't have that much of a lead on them.

"Which direction did they head?" Porthos asked the trembling proprietor.

When Dampmartin pointed the way, the inseparables urged their horses onward.

++++

_Inside the carriage containing the cardinal_

"If you do away with me," Richelieu glared at his unwanted companion, "you will be leaving France vulnerable without its cardinal."

" _Il n'y a point d'homme necessaire_ ," Pascal wore a smug expression, waving his hand airily.

Frowning, Richelieu hadn't expected that type of response. On the other hand he shouldn't have been surprised considering the caliber of the men who had kidnapped him.

"How about shuttin' your mouth until we get to where we're goin'," Pascal shook his pistol in Richelieu's face.

"As you please," Richelieu tightly held onto the rosary beads he held between his fingers and used the time he had left in prayer.

Unexpectedly the carriage came to an abrupt halt. Pistol trained on the cardinal, Pascal stuck his head out of the window and hollered out. "Why'd we stop?" Not getting a response from anyone, especially Denis and Osmont who were their leaders, Pascal grew concerned as the silence lingered.

"I'll give you four good reasons," a young voice rang out into the night air.

Squinting his eyes, Pascal only noted a slim looking youth astride a horse.

"Name's d'Artagnan," he grinned, "think of it kindly if you think of me at all." He pointed toward his comrades, "And these fine gentlemen are Rene, Henri and Simon."

"Now, if you will, surrender peacefully in the name of the king," Rene held the gaze of the biggest man in the group, "we will then, of course, turn back around and head for Paris."

"Sorry, My Lord, for the delay in your trip," Simon added as he noted Richelieu staring at them as if they were apparitions coming out of nowhere, which they actually had when you think upon it.

Getting a good look at the three men the boy pointed to, Osmont instantly recognized them as Musketeers. "You should be happy we're gettin' rid of this trash for you!" Osmont yelled.

"How should I respond to that," Rene muttered to the lad. "Man's got a valid point."

Smirking, d'Artagnan tilted his head to the side studying the cardinal's still shocked face. "That canaille may be correct but you are better than he," d'Artagnan reminded the older man. "You're a Musketeer."

Sighing, Rene shook his head ruefully. "Alas, tis too true," he shared an all too brief amused look with the youngster. Turning his gaze back on the kidnappers again Rene said, "I will assume by your choice of words that a peaceful surrender is out of the question?"

"Damn straight it is!" This time it was Denis who spoke up.

"You didn't think it was going to be that easy, mon frere?" Simon chuckled despite the dire situation and even worse consequences if they failed.

"When is it ever?" Henri laughed.

Indicating with their muskets and pistols for the canailles to dismount, they waited for Cardinal Richelieu and the man guarding him to step out of the carriage as well. It was only then that d'Artagnan and the other Musketeers dismounted themselves.

Unsheathing his sword, d'Artagnan's figure was bathed in the moonlight's soft glow as he stepped forward first. "Then, Messieurs, prepare to die!"

_Note_

French proverb: _"Il n'y a point d'homme necessaire"_ \- English equivalent: _No man is indispensable_.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See note at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same night, still late evening… let the fighting commence_

Circling one another, d’Artagnan faced his opponent, who could have given Porthos a run for his money in the size department.

“Ha! You’re a might small runt ta be facin’ the likes of me!” Osmont was a huge, muscular man compared to the boy’s lean frame.

“Size doesn’t always matter,” d’Artagnan grinned cheekily. There was a full moon overhead to shed enough light to see as he noticed the giant frown at his remark. Enough words had been said as far as d’Artagnan was concerned when he began his attack, advancing and lunging at the over confident canaille.

The speed of the youth took Osmont by surprise as he tried to parry against the lad’s furious thrusts.

As their blades played back and forth, both men could hear sounds of others engaged in the same life and death battle.

Taking on two men at the same time, Rene was kept busy to say the least. Likewise Simon and Henri who had two each of their own as well.

Unfortunately there were still four others left in Osmont’s band that were free to help their comrades out. But they never got the chance to jump into the fray because at that moment three more Musketeers arrived out of the darkness.

“Looks like a fun party,” Porthos grinned at his brothers, pulling his poignard out and brandishing it menacingly.

“We didn’t get an invitation,” Aramis jumped off Belle unsheathing his sword.

“Ours got lost in the post,” Athos dry wit came to the fore causing both his friends to look at him askance.

“Thought ya lost that sense of humor of yours,” Porthos remarked with a sly wink at Aramis’ amused face.

“What _humor_ ,” Athos said deadpanned and then quickly unsheathed his own sword.

They all then engaged the four remaining canailles. At least this way the odds against their brothers and d’Artagnan were somewhat evened.

++++

Observing the chaos from the relative safety of the carriage, if you could call it that with a pistol being trained on him, Richelieu scowled at Pascal. The canaille hadn’t budged from his perch opposite him, but the man appeared to have lost his bravado. “What? Too scared to help your friends out?”

“I have my orders to guard you unto we get to where we're goin' and get rid of your intolerable presence,” Pascal sneered, leaning forward, getting into the cardinal’s displeased face.

Not happy that he couldn’t shake this man off, Richelieu had to be content knowing that the Musketeers were all skilled swordsmen and that included his son. Swallowing his pride Richelieu acknowledged that Treville's men would be the ones to get him out of this mess and not his Red Guards.

++++

As d’Artagnan pressed his advantage over his opponent’s clumsy movements, he whipped out his main gauche with his left hand using it to parry the canaille’s sword. Finally gaining the upper hand, d’Artagnan was able to send the other man’s weapon flying. “Are you prepared to surrender or do you choose death?”

“Cocky bugger ain’t ya!” Osmont snarled, pulling out his pistol. But he never had a chance to fire it as the youngster spun quickly around, taking him off guard. So when the sudden thrust of the lad’s blade in his chest registered, Osmont couldn’t believe it. He staggered away from the boy, dropped his sword and fell to his knees before falling to the ground stone dead.

Whipping his head around, it was then d’Artagnan caught the sight and sounds of the inseparables. Yelling out, “What the hell are you three doing here?” he scowled.

“We were in the area,” Aramis laughed as he ran his sword through another canaille’s shoulder.

“And you have the nerve to tell me I don’t have a poker face,” d’Artagnan chided. “Did Captain Treville send you?” he held up a finger. “Because I know all about _operation keep d’Artagnan safe_.”

“Eh,” Porthos glanced over at Athos who was engaged with two fighters, “who blabbed?”

His adversary made a costly mistake which Athos took advantage of. With a lunge and a thrust, the canaille cried out as Athos’ blade pierced the man’s side. “Perhaps it was all due to d’Artagnan’s intuitive skills.”

Shaking his head, d’Artagnan should have realized by now that the inseparables would always have his back. Deciding it was now time to take care of Richelieu’s precarious situation, d’Artagnan approached the carriage most cautiously. His pistol pointed straight ahead at the canaille d’Artagnan could make out sitting across from the cardinal. “Will you surrender yourself peacefully?” he shouted. “Or do you want to turn that carriage into your coffin?”

“Whelp, ya gotta pretty big mouth,” Pascal chuckled. “Matches that pretty face of yours.”

D’Artagnan was getting really tired of people pointing out that he wasn’t half bad to look at. “Answer me?” he tried again, noting the weariness that Richelieu wore like a heavy cloak. Probably if situations were reversed d’Artagnan would feel the same way after the night the cardinal was having.

Hearing the cocking of a weapon, d’Artagnan realized that the canaille must have felt cornered now and decided to shoot Richelieu instead of following through with their plan. So d'Artagnan did what needed to be done. Aiming for a head shot, he fired his pistol killing the man instantly.

"Pardon for the blood," d'Artagnan noted how it was splattered all over the carriage.

Waving his hand as if to say it wasn't of any import, Richelieu snorted. "A little blood here or there doesn't bother me."

"Of that I'm quite sure," d'Artagnan retorted, earning a hard look from the cardinal.

"Besides tis not even my carriage," Richelieu unnecessarily pointed out.

"Bit of an irony here wouldn't you say?" d'Artagnan drawled, one brow rose high. He didn't feel anything needed to be spelled out to Richelieu, reminding the man that d'Artagnan had just saved His Eminence's life when said cardinal tried to have d'Artagnan murdered.

"I'm quite sure I do not know what you refer too," Richelieu locked eyes with his son. But it was he that had to turn his head away first.

"Oh I'm _sure_ ," d'Artagnan's caustic tone washed over the cardinal.

Joining them, Rene bowed his head at Cardinal Richelieu. "My Lord, I would suggest turning around now and head back to Paris," he glanced sideways at d'Artagnan. "Aside from the fact that we have to bring back to the garrison the few canailles that survived I don't believe there are sufficient guards to see you to Calais safely."

Pursing his lips, Richelieu nodded his head. "Agreed," he firmly replied. "I'll just have to re-schedule with my old friend for another time."

As d'Artagnan went to leave with Rene he paused when Richelieu hailed him.

"Wait a moment more, d'Artagnan," Richelieu immediately saw a curtain go down over the boy's eyes. It was like the lad was afraid that he could see into the youngster's soul and didn't want him anywhere near it. "Where are my other four Red Guards?"

"Most likely still asleep," d'Artagnan could tell Richelieu didn't comprehend what he said by the puzzled frown crossing the cardinal's features. "I played a hunch," he briefly looked away from the older man's steady gaze.

"A _hunch_?"

"Oui," d'Artagnan began to feel uncomfortable. He hated having to explain himself to others. "I felt something was off and followed my instincts. I couldn't get my friends to stay behind and I didn't see any reason to wake your men."

"I see," Richelieu noted the bodies scattered all over the ground, not counting Pascals that was still inside with him. Sticking his hand out the carriage window Richelieu waited for the young man to take it. When d'Artagnan hesitated, Richelieu wiggled his fingers. "Come now. I don't bite," he tisked. Clearly seeing that d'Artagnan thought otherwise he sighed. "I already promised you that you need never worry of reprisals against yourself coming from any of my guards." So when d'Artagnan finally grasped Richelieu's hand he smiled in genuine regard at his son. "My thanks. I owe my life to you."

"Got that right!" Porthos proudly agreed as he placed a heavy hand on the whelp's shoulder.

Hiding his amusement, d'Artagnan bowed his head. "I was only doing my duty, Your Eminence."

"You went above and beyond any _duty_ ," Athos announced as he too went to stand by the pup. His eyes lingered on d'Artagnan, pride reflected in his blue orbs.

Blushing from the unexpected praise, d'Artgnan turned to Porthos. "Perhaps you could remove that body from the carriage?"

"Must I?" Porthos whispered into the whelp's ear and began to chuckle when d'Artagnan made to punch him playfully in the stomach.

"What? Another party I haven't been invited too?" Aramis grinned when d'Artagnan rolled his eyes.

Seeing Simon and Henri securing a few of the injured canailles, d'Artagnan waved them over. "Let's not forget that we have to swing back around to our campsite to wake up His Emience's guards." Whether d'Artagnan had intended that to be funny or not, most of the men present found it most humorous, except of course the cardinal.

Throwing an arm casually across the lad's shoulder, Aramis pulled d'Artagnan in for a tight hug. "Now that's a way to make an impression." They both watched as Porthos dragged the dead body of Richelieu's jailer from the carriage.

Feeling a hand on his other shoulder, d'Artagnan noted Athos standing closer to him. Ducking his head he felt suddenly shy.

"So you were already wise to our attempt to protect you?" Athos noted the the pup's shyness evaporate like so much water. Seeing a growing smirk spreading on the young Gascon's face, Athos was sorry he had said anything.

"Oh please," d'Artagnan rolled his eyes. "It was poorly concealed at best."

Pushing his hat back, Aramis sighed. "Here I was giving us a pat on the back for our stealth technique."

"You three need more practice at it then," Rene tossed over his shoulder, heading aback to his horse.

"What say you?" Athos cocked his head to the side, wondering what was behind Rene's comment.

"It was obvious to most of the garrison what all of you were up to," Rene laughed. "D'Artagnan wasn't as oblivious as you three thought."

Carrying the dead body over his shoulder, Porthos grunted. "We'll have ta work on that."

Now that the carriage consisted only of Richelieu, Henri got up front to take charge of the horses and began to turn the carriage around.

As everyone mounted up Aramis observed the carriage leave taking Cardinal Richelieu back home, and he just couldn't resist saying, "You know, some cause happiness wherever they go and others whenever they go."

++++

_Note:_

The quote - _Some cause happiness wherever they go and others whenever they go_ is by Oscar Wilde.


	24. Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another one bites the dust. LOL! Well not any Musketeers thankfully. Just an end to another series. I hope you've all enjoyed this along with d'Artagnan and company.
> 
> ++++

_A week after the attempt on Cardinal Richelieu's life_

_Royal Palace_

"It will be interesting to see why we were summoned to the palace today." Athos glanced at the dais where the king and queen sat discussing something of interest with Cardinal Richelieu.

"Captain Treville looks slightly nervous," Porthos said making both Athos and Aramis crane their necks trying to see what their friend was talking about, since the inseparables were currently all standing apart from where the captain and d'Artagnan were. They had positioned themselves nearer the entrance to the throne room. Preferring this way whenever on guard duty in hopes of a hasty exit upon being relieved. Old habits have a hard time dying.

"I'll take a leap and surmise that this all has to do with d'Artagnan's rescue of His Eminence," Athos had noted all the little glances the boy kept receiving from Their Majestys as well as Cardinal Richelieu.

Also gathered together for this affair were Rene, Simon and Henri. So, it would appear, the gang was all here that helped foil the plot against Richelieu.

Seeing King Louis finally stand up, all the Musketeers and d'Artagnan stood at attention.

Waving d'Artagnan over to the dais, King Louis smiled into the youngster's anxious eyes. "You have shown remarkable courage in saving my cardinal," he stepped down from the dais to be on eye level with the boy. "I do not know how I would have carried on if Armand had been lost to me."

Leaning slightly toward Athos, Porthos snorted his feelings. "Wouldn't a been much of a loss."

"I agree," Athos kept a straight face but noted Aramis' lips quirk upward at their exchange.

"Please kneel, d'Artagnan," King Louis reached for his own sword.

Not comprehending what was about to happen, d'Artagnan glanced back at Captain Treville helplessly.

But at least one of them was on the ball as Treville realized at once what His Majesty had on his mind. Whispering into the boy's ear he gave d'Artagnan his advice. "Get on your knees before he changes his mind."

"You defended your cardinal with great heroism last week," King Louis smiled fondly at the lad. "I admire loyalty more than any other virtue." Touching his blade to each of d'Artagnan's shoulders he noted his old fox's eyes shining with pride. "I hereby commission you into my regiment of Musketeers." Taking the youngster by d'Artagnan's shoulders, King Louis kissed each of the boy's cheeks. "May you serve it always with the same distinction you showed when saving the life of Cardinal Richelieu."

Quietly Treville stepped over to d'Artagnan's side and helped slip on the boy's pauldron.

Then Queen Anne came forward holding something in her hand. When she opened her palm, exposed was a most beautiful jeweled crucifix. Motioning for the young man to bend his head, Queen Anne slipped the crucifix around d'Artagnan's neck. "It's been blessed by Cardinal Richelieu and I pray it will protect you always." She stepped back to stand by her husband's side.

++++

Stunned, the inseparables observed the proceedings in silence. That is until Aramis added his two cents worth.

"Hmmpf," Aramis eyes latched onto the crucifix now adorning d'Artagnan. " _Blessed_ my eye, more like Richelieu cursed it."

"Normally I would be the first one to agree with you, mon frere." Athos kept his eyes locked on the shocked face of their Gascon and noted Richelieu talking to the lad. "But not this time."

"Ya think the cardinal's turned over a new leaf?" Porthos too kept his eyes on the whelp, watching their young one accept the accolades due him.

"I believe Richelieu felt he was in a no win situation and was facing his own mortality," Athos wondered what went through the cardinal's mind at that moment of truth. Did Richelieu make his peace with God or railed at fate for snatching him from this life before his work was completed?

"That is until our Gascon pup who has an overwhelming thirst for justice swept down like the mighty Archangel Michael himself," Aramis chuckled and took up a stance pretending he was d'Artagnan with rapier in hand, "to wield his sword against those canailles."

"Colorfully put but true never the less," Athos agreed.

++++

"You are now the youngest Musketeer to have ever been inducted into my regiment," King Louis announced, quite pleased with himself. Now he had something to boast about during those boring political meetings he had to hold.

When Cardinal Richelieu approached him again, d'Artagnan bowed formally. "My Lord."

Holding out his hand to the boy for the second time, Richelieu remembered how hesitant d'Artagnan had been back when the lad had saved his life. But in this instance there wasn't any reluctance as Richelieu's hand was firmly grasped by the youngster. "There will be peace between you and I from this time onward." Ah! There was that wary look back in the child's eyes that he had come to expect from the Gascon.

"I believe you mean it _today_ ," d'Artagnan spoke low. He didn't think the cardinal wanted others to hear their exchange.

"You saved my life," Richelieu arched one eyebrow high. "Who do you think arranged all of this?" he deliberately stared at the new shiny, leather pauldron now gracing his son's right shoulder that Captain Treville placed there mere moments ago.

"But you wanted me in your Red Guards." Studying the man curiously, d'Artagnan wondered what made the cardinal tick.

"Alas," Richelieu sighed, "I knew where your heart belonged and therefore I had a long talk with King Louis," he then chuckled softly at the amazed expression on d'Artagnan's young face. "It hardly took any convincing." He glanced over at His Majesty who appeared to be having an animated conversation with Treville. "I think the king was only looking for an excuse to add you to his regiment all along."

++++

While d'Artagnan and Richelieu quietly continued talking, King Louis was handing out royal medals to the rest of the Musketeers that were involved in saving Cardinal Richelieu. When the ceremony was officially concluded and the king dismissed his men, all the Musketeers slowly filed out of the room.

Once outside of the palace, all the Musketeers stopped to admire their medals.

"We should hang around d'Artagnan more often," Henri grinned, tapping the tip of his finger on his medal.

"Hope the whelp don't get a big 'ead outta all this," Porthos glanced over at Athos who had remained silent since receiving his own medal.

"A _big head_ is the least of my concerns," Athos drolly remarked. 'Keeping our pup from dashing in where angels fear to tread is going to involve the entire regiment."

"Oh I don't know, Athos," Aramis grinned. "He has the three of us as fine examples of how a Musketeer should behave," he held out both hands. "So no worries, eh?"

"It is thinking like that which will land d'Artagnan in more hot water than the lad could swim in," Athos rolled his eyes while Aramis just pouted.

Seeing d'Artagnan and Treville emerge from the palace doors, all the Musketeers swarmed around the youngster to congratulate him.

"I still can't believe this has happened to me," d'Artagnan was truly happy, his brown eyes filled with emotion.

"Your parents will be so very proud of your accomplishment," Treville slapped the boy hard on the back, "and at barely the age of nineteen years too," he added.

"Papa and maman will probably think I'm suffering from delusions of grandeur when I write home about this," d'Artagnan laughed.

"Not after I send them a missive as well collaborating what lead up to your commission." Treville was proud of the youngster and wasn't afraid to let d'Artagnan see it. A lot of the lad's prior training had come from himself and Alexandre to begin with. Icing the cake were the inseparables. Their years of soldiering and wealth of knowledge would be invaluable to the boy as he becomes a seasoned Musketeer.

"I think a celebration is in order," Athos placed a companionable arm around d'Artagnan's slim shoulders. "What think you?"

"As long as I don't get too drunk to think coherently." D'Artagnan knew how inebriated the inseparables could become let loose in any tavern that was open.

"Would we do that ta ya, kid?' Porthos winked at the whelp.

"Yeah you would," d'Artagnan snorted, shaking a finger at his very large friend. Looking around at the other Musketeers, d'Artagnan realized that they were all truly his brothers now. He needed to pinch himself to make sure all of this wasn't only a lovely dream.

"Since you're the guest of honor," Aramis ruffled their youngest's hair, "you don't have to pay."

Whispering in his ear, Rene warned d'Artagnan. "Best watch out whenever Aramis says something like that." Seeing the boy turn a pair of puzzled eyes his way Rene added, "Last time the _honored_ guest got left with the tab."

"They would do that to me?" D'Artagnan wasn't sure if Rene was teasing him or not.

"Rene," Athos only needed to say the man's name in an icy tone making the other Musketeer aware that he may be crossing the line, "do not fill the child's head full of nonsense." Placing his hand on the pup's back, Athos urged d'Artagnan forward. "We know you do not have sufficient funds to cover such a celebration. Do not dwell on it."

"Besides," Simon walked on d'Artagnan's other side, "Captain Treville wouldn't let it happen."

"There's that," Aramis hummed in agreement.

++++

_Next morning - Musketeer barracks_

Nursing the mother of all hangovers, d'Artagnan rolled onto his stomach. Twisting his head to the right he wore a dopey expression when d'Artagnan sought out his prize of the day before. Reaching out with an unsteady finger, d'Artagnan traced the patterns on his newly won pauldron. "Not a dream then," he murmured quietly, now knowing he shared a room with fellow brothers, d'Artagnan didn't want to disturb them. Cuddling the pauldron to his chest, he fell back asleep.

Stopping by the barracks to take d'Artagnan to breakfast, the inseparables smiled fondly down on their pup who was fast asleep. The lad cradled his latest cherished possession in his arms as one would a beloved child.

"Now isn't that a picture,?" Aramis whispered.

"Uh huh," Porthos grunted.

"Serge won't hold our breakfast forever." Athos walked up to the lad's bed and waited for Aramis and Porthos to join him. Together they lifted one side of the mattress up until d'Artagnan tumbled out of the bed onto the cold floor.

"Ouch!" d'Artagnan yelled, rubbing his aching head. "What the hell?" Bleary-eyed he stared at the three grinning faces of his friends. Hearing snickers coming from the other side of the room, d'Artagnan wanted to crawl back into bed and bury himself from their amusement. "Is this what it means to be a Musketeer?" he closed his eyes against the inseparable's knowing smirks.

"Oui," Aramis helped the boy up and settled him on the edge of the bed. Seeing d'Artagnan close his eyes again and list to the side, Aramis tried to keep the youngster upright. "You have a lot to learn if you want to be a _good Musketeer_."

"Yeah," Porthos threw the whelp's leathers at d'Artagnan, just missing hitting the boy in the face with them, "like cures for that hangover your sufferin' with."

Slowly cracking one eye open at a time, d'Artagnan glared at them all. "There's a _cure_?"

"If ever we get to eat breakfast," Athos drawled, "I will get Serge to give it to you."

"Give me a few minutes and I'll join you in the courtyard," d'Artagnan waved them away and carefully got up to do his morning ablusions.

++++

_Courtyard_

Shielding his eyes from the bright sun that greeted him, d'Artagnan noted the inseparables waiting for him at their usual table. What he didn't expect were the gifts they had for him laid out on top of the bench.

"We felt that as being the youngest you should have the best to start out with," Athos' blue eyes were kind as they fell on his protege. Picking up a rapier he handed it over to d'Artagnan. "It belonged to my brother Thomas," his eyes clouded for a brief moment with a long ago memory. "I feel he would have wanted you to have it."

"Eh, whelp," Porthos' gruff voice broke in, "ya need somethin' better than that old poignard you've been carryin'." He gave the lad a new one with d'Artagnan's initials carved into the handle.

"And I noticed the musket and pistol you've been using were borrowed from Captain Treville," Aramis grinned when d'Artagnan's eyes lingered on the new weapons the marksman held in his hands.

"I wasn't expecting anything," d'Artagnan said in awe, his vocal chords threatening to not work. "And certainly nothing ever like this," his eyes shone with unshed tears.

"We're all brothers now, whelp," Porthos drew the pup into his side with a one armed hug.

"Which means we help one another," Athos added.

Looking at each of his friends, d'Artagnan realized what Porthos meant. They were _family_ now. He held out his hand palm down and waited for the others to follow suit. " _All for one and one for all!_ " d'Artagnan cried out, his voice blending in with that of the inseparables.

On their way to breakfast Aramis pulled the boy aside. "One of the things you'll need to know in being a _good Musketeer_ is how to handle women," Aramis swaggered roguishly.

"Aramis," Athos snapped.

"We'll table this talk for another time, d'Artagnan," Aramis didn't want to earn Athos' wrath coming down upon him.

"Whelp and I could go visitin' the Court later," Porthos rubbed his hands together. "I'd be proud ta introduce d'Art ta Flea."

"Porthos," Athos snapped, quite irritated with both his brothers.

"You and I kid," Porthos whispered to d'Artagnan, "we'll get together when Athos ain't around breathin' down our necks."

"D'Artagnan, do not get me wrong," Athos shook his head in despair over Aramis' and Porthos' not very helpful suggestions to their pup, "but I want you to start out on the right foot."

"Mon frere," d'Artagnan gripped Athos' right arm tightly, "I already have."

The End


End file.
